The Seven
by e-dog
Summary: A CIA mission gone wrong, where Harm was the pilot, resurfaces with major consequences six months after his termination. [Crossover with NCIS and Alias]
1. Andy Watson

Disclaimer: not mine

Category: Drama/Action/Adventure/Angst

Rating: PG-13 for the occasional bad word, mild sexual content and mild violence

Summary: A CIA mission gone wrong, where Harm was the pilot, resurfaces with major consequences six months after his termination. Set in Season 9 after "The One That Got Away". Crossover with NCIS. Eventual crossover with Alias.

Author's Note: I tried to research this, but found it difficult for whatever reason. If the Osprey aircraft is used improperly here, just use your imagination and go with it. It's really a small technicality and not important to the bulk of this story. The story will center around Harm and Mac, so all characters from the other two shows will be given enough background as it pertains to the plot. Don't worry if you don't watch NCIS or Alias. The personalities will be clear through dialogue or character interaction. As for spoilers, all current episodes of NCIS are fair game. The season premiere of Alias is fair game.

**The Seven**

by e-dog

Chapter One

"Andy Watson"

**October 20, 2003**

**Somewhere in Iraq**

The sand swirled viciously around them thanks to the blistering winds. Dust particles and small pebbles would ricochet off the window, making him smile with complete glee. The two pilots were content, grateful to be inside and not out there with the rest of the team. While all CIA missions were branded dangerous, Harmon Rabb, Jr. found luxury in just being able to sit back, relax and wait in the cockpit.

Harm, as he preferred to be called, didn't always hold this blue collar job. He had a better one. Once a Naval aviator by trade turned JAG lawyer, his days were filled with excitement. They were filled with friends, respect and the woman he thought had loved him. That woman was Colonel Sarah "Mac" Mackenzie, his second partner and best friend.

Back when they first met, he was a younger, cocky officer clad in dress whites and gold wings. She seemed to be infatuated with him, even though she swore strongly that dress whites were overrated. If memory served him correctly, she nearly kissed him in gratitude. Thanking him when he allowed some Marine to tag along on an investigation in Columbia. _And _he was wearing dress whites. Overrated? He thought not. Yes, even now, he couldn't help but look back on the early years and dub them his "glory days".

It was safe to say those days were long gone. He was now reduced to a humble agent. Mac was no longer seduced by his charms (and he doubted she really was in the first place). What made all of this so much worse was the fact that he was alone.

He was flying planes again, which was never a raw deal...only this time he was flying them for the CIA. It seemed rather ironic he would land such a job. He had never been a fan of "spooks" and their trickery. It was in fact the Agency's fault he lost his original job in the first place. So why was he here working for them? The reasons behind the Agency hiring him and why he accepted the offer was another long story. A story that involved the woman he thought had loved him and another CIA agent by the name of Clayton Webb.

Harm's resume was impressive. His ability to win. . .uncanny. He had the looks, the brains, the charm...but still no girl to complete that ideal package entitled: World's Best CIA Agent. Well, there was one girl in his life now. Except she would never give him the time of day. That girl was his co-pilot, Beth O'Neill. They had some history...but not the kind you would think.

He was called upon to defend her on sexual harassment charges. She proclaimed her innocence, despite she couldn't prove it. With testimony from other men, Harm doubted her until he found out her secret. Beth was in fact a lesbian. It was then Harm's task to prove her innocence without exposing her arcane lifestyle. To make a long story short: He won. She was allowed to keep her job. She later retired and started her career flying planes for the CIA.

They were now currently partnered up to take on terrorism and to fight the good fight. Okay, that sounded a little commonplace, but in reality it was the truth. In a few short weeks, they became good friends. In the next month, they discovered how much they depended on each other. They would never let each other down, no matter the circumstances.

The boys at the good ol' Central Intelligence Agency thought it would be best to give Harm a crash course on "How To Fly An Osprey". There was already a ridiculous list of planes he was cleared to fly and now after intense training...he could now operate the coveted aircraft. Usually, Harm was the lead pilot, but not this time around. Beth was in charge, clocking in tons more time in the air then Harm on this particular aircraft. It only seemed fitting that he sit second chair.

Even though Harm wasn't the lead, he was very much like a little boy in a candy store. Picking out all the planes he liked and trying out each one. Sometimes, he couldn't wait for a mission to be over just so he could find out what he was going to fly next. Maybe he wasn't totally satisfied with the new lifestyle, but it did have some perks.

He turned to his partner and smiled, "Should I get you an iced tea?"

"Do I look that comfortable?" Beth asked him with a hearty laugh.

Yes. After both having tumultuous Naval careers, the chance to be pilots again was a blessing in more ways than one. Their roles in the missions were very simple.

Transport, drop off, pick up, and come home. It was heaven.

She stretched and said wistfully, "An iced tea would be good right about now."

"Yeah, it would," Harm nodded in agreement. He could feel Beth's eyes on him and he laughed, "You're not going to take this opportunity to ask me about Colonel Mackenzie again, are you?"

"No, no," she shook her head. She stole a quick glance at him and he wasn't convinced at all. She sighed and corrected herself, "Actually, yes, I was."

"I asked you kindly to drop it. . .," Harm reminded her, then added. ". . .The first three times."

"I don't understand, Harm," Beth sighed. "You both burned out on each other? I just think you're being too irrational here."

"Irrational?" Harm frowned and asked, "Why do you care so much, Beth?"

"Because I can see that this issue is tearing you up inside, that's why," she replied sympathetically. "I don't have to be your best friend to see that."

Harm timidly gave her a soft stare expressing his thanks for her regard to his feelings. After leaving JAG behind, he had no one to vent to. No on to listen to him. It appeared Beth had been listening all along and he just didn't notice. It slowly occurred to him that Beth was an okay replacement to console him, but she could only serve as a temporary substitution. She was right in her limited assessment of the situation. Eventually, he would need to talk things over with Mac. Talking to her, however, was definitely one thing he wasn't looking forward to.

Suddenly, the radio squawked and Harm retrieved it and answered, "This is Romeo."

"Start the engines now, we're coming back!" screeched Agent Mark Daniels' voice.

So much for "being the pilot" and smooth sailing. Before Harm could order it, Beth was already flipping switches and pushing buttons. Actually, she was the one giving the orders. How easy it was for him to forget he wasn't "top dog".

"I'm going to open the hatch!" She stood up and rose from her seat. "You get this thing off the ground!"

"Yes, Ma'am!" Harm answered her. He started flipping switches on his side. Checking gauges and other instruments. It took a very long minute, but the propellers started to warm up. He then shouted out, to lighten the mood, "I think it's safe to assume that something went wrong!"

"You think?" Beth retorted. Her voice was still somewhat playful, but also very distressed at the same time. The moment the door came down, Daniels and the rest of the team jumped on. Wait. Five agents had jumped off, but only four came back. Beth immediately asked, "Daniels? What happened? Where's Watson?"

"Just go! They're right behind us!" he shouted, tearing off his radio equipment. It was then Beth noticed the dirt and blood. She didn't want to leave. She wanted to ask more questions, but she had to ignore them for the moment and carry out his orders. She hopped into her seat next to Harm. The Osprey was hard enough to handle when it had a full crew, but with just her and Harm at the helm...things were much more difficult. They shut the hatch just when bullets started to bounce off the back.

"Let's go!" Harm ordered the aircraft, as the propellers were finally spinning full force. The aircraft began it's ascent and easily avoided the attacks of the guns on the ground. Harm and Beth had once again pulled themselves from incredible danger. Once they had reached 11,000 ft and were at the maximum speed of 275 knots, Harm took this time to figure out what had happened.

"They were ready for us," Daniels coughed, trying to clear his throat of gunshot and explosion powder. "Andy didn't make it. This. . .this is his blood on me."

Harm couldn't breathe. Not Andy. Why did they take Andy?

Beth gave him a pat on the shoulder and nodded towards the controls. She was trying to snap him out of it and encouraging him to continue doing his job. He tried to concentrate on flying, but it was too difficult. Andy was his co-pilot on his previous mission, test piloting the CIA's new aircraft: the Aurora. They had a brush with death then, when they entered Korean air space. It seemed this time, Andy wasn't so lucky.

Beth involuntarily released a small whimper. Harm looked at her with sad eyes as he also tried not to cry. While Andy had loved flying, running ground operations was another one of his passions. He had just been promoted from pilot to ground surveillance. Harm gently rubbed her arm, trying to comfort her. She accepted the gesture of solace graciously. Harm pulled himself together and asked, "How did it happen?"

"Andy was in front of us," Daniels explained. He was beginning to choke up with sadness. "Once we had reached the spot, the ground beneath us just exploded. Andy was gone before he knew what hit him. Then the bullets started flying and we ran back here."

Harm just nodded, understanding completely. Andy had stepped on a mine. Now that he had a better reasoning of the events, he could focus his attention on getting the survivors home. That, of course, was his job.

Transport, drop off, pick up, and come home.

-

Agent Mark Daniels was a 42 year old man whose job was his life.

He was a former Marine. He had no wife. No kids. No relatives that he cared to speak of. Nothing. The CIA was all he had. This agency was his family and when he lost a member of that family, it was like losing a son or daughter. Losing Andy Watson like that really shook him up. No, that was an understatement. Losing Andy literally tore him to shreds.

He didn't utter any more words on the way back to Langley. He wouldn't let anyone touch him. It was safe to assume what tore him up the most was the fact there were no remains to bring home to Andy's family. Deep down, Mark knew he had failed Andy in so many ways. If only he had seen that mound of dirt sooner. If only Andy had waited a little while longer to go on a real mission. If only...

At the debriefing, it was rumored that Mark finally broke. His eyes watered slightly, releasing subtle tears that stained his cheeks, leaving paths of sorrow in their wake. Harm could only watch in amazement at the other agents, waiting on Mark's return. They kept saying, "Its quite tragic to see such a distinguished agent fall like that."

Did these people understand what happened out there? A man was killed. Mark had every right to cry.

However, when Mark left Kershaw's office and re-entered the land of the living, not a trace of sadness could be found. It appeared his heart was ice again. He would be the first one to remind you that this job required little emotion. You had to be cold, bold and fearless. You couldn't get caught up in all of that nonsense known as love, jealously, loss, or anger. There was simply no time to even fathom the meaning of those sentiments. Harm had been doing this for a month now and he still couldn't understand how these people could just turn off their emotions like a light switch.

There was one agent, however, that held Harm's curiosity when it came to concealing one's emotions. He sat at his desk and watched that man walk by. Clayton Webb. It seemed the more time that passed, the more he was changing. Clothes slightly ruffled from time to time. A sullen look in his eyes. Clay was constantly popping pills for headaches. This behavior molded a different man. A man Harm wasn't sure he knew anymore. There was one possibility behind the changes.

Harm could only assume Clay and Mac were together, but he could bet money Mac factored into the equation somewhere. Maybe they were going out to dinner or he was spending time alone with her. Maybe this was causing Clay to arrive late to work, miss important meetings or screw up his paperwork. However, the constant need for aspirin couldn't be the result of dating Mac. No. There was another reason for that.

Harm's eyes focused on Clay. They focused with a determination to see through him. To see what was going on in that head of his. However, just like every other spook in this building, Clay was still hard to read. The only way to find out if Clay and Mac were in fact a couple would be to ask. He stood up from his desk and walked up to Clayton and Mark, who were talking by the water cooler.

"Harm," Mark greeted him with the most manufactured smile Harm had ever seen. "How are you holding up?"

It was now Harm's turn to fake a smile. Deep down, he felt maybe he should ask Mark if he was really okay. How was he holding up?

"Yeah, Harm," Clay chimed in. "I know that Andy was your friend."

Harm stiffened slightly at Clay's comment and the real reason he came over here was null and void. This would be a bad time to bring up Mac. He moved his head around, pretending to crack his neck and answered painfully, "Yeah, Andy was a good guy."

An awkward silence followed, leaving Harm with a sudden need to get away. Clay beat him to it. He coughed and excused himself, leaving Harm alone with Mark. Before Harm could pull a disappearing act similar to Clay's, he felt a strong hand on his shoulder and realized Mark was the one supplying the pressure.

He gave a warm, genuine smile this time and told him, "Come with me, Harm. I want you to see something."

Harm followed Mark down corridors he had never traveled before. This little trip intrigued him and he momentarily forgot about Andy, Clay and concealing his emotions. Maybe Mark would take him to some room stuffed with a ton of spy gadgets and other fun items. Anything right now would occupy his mind and keep it from thinking about other things.

When they stopped, Harm's childlike hopefulness vanished. He was at the wall. Mark didn't need to explain the importance of the gold stars. Harm already knew. They represented each and every agent who died serving their country.

Mark stepped up and touched one of the gold stars that stretched from one side to the other. He looked at Harm and said, "Andy will go up here tomorrow. He's a hero."

Harm released a frustrated sigh and asked, "He's a hero because he died?"

"No, not at all," Mark replied, sounding shocked that such a question would even be asked.

"I'm sorry...I knew what you meant," Harm apologized and stepped closer to Mark. "It's just...he was so young. . ."

Mark nodded his head, looking like he understood Harm's disappointment. He folded his arms across his chest and said thoughtfully, "Sometimes...people do confuse death as heroism. In fact, death can be a result of cowardice, accident or bad luck."

Harm slowly looked up at Mark and asked, "Is that all?"

"No, Harm," Mark sighed and unfolded his arms. "You of all people should know, that heroism comes with sacrifice. Is there something going on that has made you lose sight of that?"

Despite Mark was only two years older than him, he had the wisdom of a great grandfather and the love that went with it. Like mentioned before, the CIA was his family and he treated Harm no different.

"I sacrificed my career to help someone," Harm sighed, then quickly appended. "I'm not saying it makes me a hero. . . It's just, . . . You know what, never mind."

Mark pulled on Harm's arm to keep him from leaving. "Don't walk away, Harm. You either get out your frustrations right here or on a future mission your emotions will get in the way."

That Mark. He seemed to have an answer for everything. And surprisingly, Harm didn't resent him for his know-it-all demeanor. Mark was simply trying to assist him and like so many times before, Harm was pushing that help away. This time, he conceded and finished, "Sometimes I wonder if the sacrifices we make really amount to anything at all in the end."

"When I first started working here, I used to ask myself the same question," Mark winked at him. Harm smiled.

They both began their journey back to the offices. They talked about everything. Why Harm jumped to his conclusion of death vs. heroism. How Mark managed to do his job despite the casualties and the letdowns. The conversation was insightful. Once they reached Harm's desk, Mark took a seat and said, "You just have to learn to pick up the pieces, dust them off and put them back together."

"What if you're missing pieces?" Harm asked, still not all the way convinced. He then added wistfully, "What if there's this gaping hole that you just can't fill?"

Mark squinched his eyes and chuckled, "Are we still talking about heroism? Or is this conversation eluding to a lost relationship?"

Harm could feel his ears burning. How did all of his conversations somehow bring up his relationship with Sarah Mackenzie? And why was it so obvious to everyone else? Mark didn't even know who Mac was! He shook his head in the negative and replied, "No...not about a woman. I'm just saying...holes like Andy. How can you replace them?"

"I've worked here for a long time," Mark replied. He stood up and sighed, "Andy had a wonderful spirit that will never be forgotten. That's how you fill that hole, Harm. You never forget."

-

**Harm's Apartment**

**North of Union Station**

Harm let Mark's words sink in and he tried his best to work by them. He tried to emulate Mark's actions, style and speeches so he could make it through the day. He was 40, two years younger than Mark. He had no family, no wife just like Mark. He was also a former military officer now working for the CIA. Exactly like Mark. In some ways, Harm could confuse himself with his mentor. If Mark could make it through his entire life the way that he had, than Harm could too. Of course, the logical explanation wasn't always the right one.

When he arrived home, he would see that blinking red light on his answering machine. That small red illumination would remind him of his previous life. The life he longed to have back. He didn't really want to be some cold, 40 year old bachelor with no time for love and affection. He wanted to argue court cases and see his colleagues. Deep down, he wanted to see Mac.

He was so close one night to listening to all of the messages, but he always managed to stop himself. He knew it was Mac trying to reach him. The total number of messages had now reached 17. Seventeen unanswered calls. It boggled his mind how persistent she was being. If he wasn't answering after call number 8, what made her think he would call back after 17?

What made her think that? She knew him well enough to know that it wouldn't be too long before he answered her.

This time, he came in, saw the light and just didn't care anymore. He finally hit the play button with no regrets. Without anger or happiness. He just hit play and listened to her voice. The last message played with more desperation than the previous one.

"Harm, where are you? I know you have to come home some time. . . Clay pretends he's never seen you, you don't answer my calls. Would you please call me back?"

She terminated the call after that. So, she was speaking to Clay on a regular basis. That last message did nothing but prove that. He drank from a beer bottle and let his heart harden. She told him never in Paraguay and he was going to take that literally. . . no matter how atrociously it tore him apart inside.

For a moment, hope sparked in him. He picked up the receiver and started to slowly punch in her area code. Then the first three digits of her number...then he stopped. He hung up and walked away from the phone. The red light continued to blink. The 17 messages he never erased.

-

**October 26, 2003**

**CIA Headquarters**

**Langley, VA**

Harm was told he needed a contingency plan. In other words, don't get caught. Their next mission was supposed to be simple. An agent had been exposed and needed to be extracted immediately. He and Beth were to fly in a C-130, pick up said agent and bring that agent home. Naturally, there were problems. The agent had a family that he didn't want to leave behind. Harm tried to say there was no room, but he was in a C-130. He knew there was plenty of room and being the kind of man that he was, he couldn't leave the family behind.

Harm and Beth tried to make them as comfortable as possible and they prepared for take-off. It wasn't too long before the fates decided to mess with Harm some more. First, there was the engine failure. Okay, he could work with that. When it seemed they had things under control, then they had no brakes. Furthermore, with the agent's entire family on board, they couldn't eject. Before too long, the engine would completely crap out on them and they would fall into a painful, watery death. They were trapped.

Finally, some light shed on the situation when they discovered the USS Seahawk was in the neighborhood.

After much deliberation, the crew on the deck worked at a feverish pace, trying to prepare landing space for the over sized aircraft. Every plane was moved. Some had to take off while others could be stored below deck. The engine finally gave out as Harm and Beth landed the C-130 on the deck of the carrier with the nose of the plane hanging just over the edge. In celebration of the amazing feat and the fact that their lives were saved, Harm hopped off the plane holding one of the children and smiling his face off. He was completely unaware that the news cameras were even present. While they focused on him, Beth managed to avoid being caught in the glare of the those dreaded camera lenses.

Harm had failed. He was exposed.

"You're firing me?" Harm had asked Allen, his boss. Allen had explained that his face had been plastered all over for the world to see. Harm could do nothing but accept it and go home. While he packed up his desk, which had few possessions to begin with, Mark Daniels walked up to say his farewells.

"You were a fine agent, Harm," Mark complimented.

"Obviously not good enough," Harm joked mildly and shut the cardboard box carrying his belongings. "If you would excuse me, I have a debriefing to attend. . . "

"Wait, Harm," Mark stopped him. The look on the agent's face unsettled Harm. Like there was trouble. "I know this experience wasn't easy for you. I just want you to remember one thing."

"What's that?" Harm asked, furrowing his brow in confusion. Mark seemed very worried.

"Watch your back and keep your loved ones close," Mark told him sternly. "That mission where Andy died may come back to haunt you."

Harm still not sure as to what Mark was getting at, just put on a smile and said, "I'm taking your advice, Mark. You told me not to forget Andy and I won't. Thanks for the concern, but I think his death is finally behind me."

For a moment, Mark didn't return the smile and Harm had the unpleasant feeling that he completely misinterpreted his words. Then Mark did smile and he gave Harm a hearty parting handshake. "I wish you luck in all your future endeavors, Harmon Rabb."

"Thanks, Mark," Harm grinned. "I'll never forget you."

Harm finally picked up his box, said goodbye to some people here and there, and walked out. He was finally leaving the CIA behind for good.

To be continued. . .


	2. A Blast From the Past

Disclaimer: not mine

Category: Drama/Action/Adventure/Angst

Rating: PG-13 for the occasional bad word and mild to moderate violence

Summary: A CIA mission gone wrong, where Harm was the pilot, resurfaces with major consequences six months after his termination. Set in Season 9 after "The One That Got Away". Crossover with NCIS. Eventual crossover with Alias.

Author's Note: Just for a reminder, this is an angst/drama piece with action and spy stuff all thrown in there together. So hold on for a bumpy ride. ;) Next reminder, I will post on a weekly basis. Also, thanks for the remarks and reviews everyone! I'm having fun writing this, so I hope you have fun reading it.

**The Seven**

by e-dog

Chapter Two

"A Blast From the Past"

**Six Months Later**

**March 22, 2004**

**JAG Headquarters**

He woke up early that morning feeling especially chipper. His adopted daughter, Mattie, had suggested he start drinking coffee from one of those local donut shops. He laughed at her, saying he would never get caught up in all that nonsense. Despite his chastising, the next morning he woke up, went to a donut shop and bought a medium sized coffee. There was no harm in just trying it out. Now he was an addict.

Getting coffee every morning was merely one of the many changes in Harm's life. The last six months had been interesting, to say the least. Admiral AJ Chegwidden begrudgingly offered him his job back and after mulling it over, he reluctantly accepted. Pride was the main reason it took him so long to accept Chegwidden's offer. He imagined pride was also the reason as to why it took AJ so long to speak to him. It was later that he secretly celebrated. He couldn't have been happier to be back. He belonged at JAG.

He met a young, troubled teenager named Mattie Grace and eventually adopted her. She was hard to handle, but weren't all teenagers like that?

Then of course, there was Mac. Talking to and seeing her again on a regular basis was rocky at first, but they managed to get through the day with minimal arguing. Okay, "minimal arguing" was an inaccurate description. They sniped in excessive amounts at each other. Many a time, they spoke words they truly didn't mean to say.

While the changes in his life were subtle, Mac's were extremely bold. Finally, the events in Paraguay and a terrorist by the name of Sadik caught up with her and she had to face her demons. She volunteered to work for the CIA, trap Sadik and figure out his plan. Exactly two gunshots later, she was free of her captors' torment. Almost free. Naturally, the situation didn't just blow over. Her experience had been horrifying and to be honest, Harm wasn't sure he would be able to handle it with as much grace as she had.

Even still, she was only human. The Admiral ordered for her to seek psychiatric help.

A couple of weeks after her doctor's visit, Jennifer Coates was promoted to Petty Officer First Class. The JAG crew ate dinner at Lucky Dream Palace and near the end of their meal, they passed around the fortune cookie basket. Miraculously, the same words had been printed in everyone's fortune!

It was quite comical until Mac claimed her fortune said something entirely different from theirs. It was at this, Harm was sure something was wrong. During the dinner, he had occasionally gazed at her, making sure she was okay. She looked like she was fine, which relieved him somewhat. The psychiatrist visit appeared to do some good and squelched his worries for the time being. Maybe things were finally going to be normal again.

The fortune, his new found lifestyle and all of what had happened to Mac gave him inspiration. They were the reasons why he had to buy them for her. He was at his local donut shop again, buying his usual coffee. He left the premises and on the way to his car, he saw the stand. The jolly owner was trying his best to sell his product. Harm walked over, examined the goods, then immediately bought three of them. He would've bought more, but he had limited cash on hand.

"Close your eyes, Mac," Harm insisted as he stood outside her office doorway. He peaked inside, just to make sure. He grinned when he saw that her eyes were closed. He tip toed inside quietly and set the present down on her desk. He gazed at his gift and went over his little speech in his head to explain it.

"Ready?" he asked, once he had positioned the gift perfectly.

"I was ready yesterday," she sighed, but still sounded amused.

He laughed and said with great anticipation, "Open them."

She did and in front of her were three roses in a small blue vase. Two yellow and one red. They were absolutely exquisite. Perfect in every way. At first, all she could do was gasp at their beauty, but eventually put on a bemused expression. She looked up at him and asked, "They're beautiful, Harm but....Why only one red?"

Harm rocked a little bit on his feet and said nonchalantly, "Well, you know that yellow is for friendship. I always want us to stay friends. You know that, right Mac?"

"Of course." Her answer was quick and to the point. She hoped it didn't come out too quickly. He flashed a grin at her. She chuckled softly, wondering what had gotten into him! His behavior had been somewhat different since Coates' promotion dinner. He was playful, charming, and sometimes utterly annoying. Where did this change come from? She had to admit that she liked the change in him. It was better than his hassling her over Clayton Webb all the time.

He smiled more and pointed at the red one, "Well, the red one is for love...and uh, you can take that love to mean anything you want. You know, a love between friends or a love between..." His voice trailed off, not sure how to finish his thought.

She smiled mischievously and decided to mess with him. Did he know how badly he set himself up for this? She batted her eyes and finished the thought for him, "A love between lovers?"

His face turned bright red immediately and she laughed. For the first time in a while, she laughed when she truly meant to laugh. It wasn't forced or drawn out. She wanted to control her giggles, but his face was still shocked by the comment.

Eventually, Harm realized it was a joke, but the look of fear on his face was priceless. His eyes took on a prankish glint as well and he promised to get her back for that one. The laughter had died down and their eyes locked. It was the same kind of contact they had made countless times before. She coughed and he blinked, breaking it.

"Have you heard from Hanson yet?" Mac asked, suddenly changing the subject. The atmosphere had suddenly become too friendly...too familiar. Work was always a good topic to help break any tension and/or to bring them back to reality. He looked disappointed the "rose game" was over, but he followed suit.

"Not yet," he sighed. "I'm sure we'll get word from the Admiral on what to do next."

"Well, I'm sure he'll show up," Mac replied thoughtfully. "If he doesn't, then we won't have a case."

Harm nodded in agreement. It was true. For the first time in a while, they were working on the same side. They were prosecuting Corporal Brian Hanson for the murder of Antonio Ricardo, a former Marine General just recently retired. Hanson was under Ricardo's chain of command for a few years. That was the connection between the accused and the victim. Hanson was also reported by several of his colleagues to have fought with Ricardo about his non-promotion. There was his motive. The case was open and shut.

Unfortunately, Hanson was arrested by his local authorities but released on bail courtesy of his parents. He was supposed to meet with Commander Sturgis Turner and Lieutenant Bud Roberts. His absence was delaying some of the process. Harm and Mac talked to the two defense attorneys, but they reported that no one had called yet. Both parties shrugged it off. No one was really that worried.

Hanson also had a reputation for disappearing for days at a time and never contacting anyone. He was considered a party animal. Using his leave to attack the local bars and dance clubs. He almost always showed up later apologizing for being tardy. Despite knowing this fact about Hanson, law enforcement had started search parties for the missing Marine. He was still considered armed and dangerous.

"Well, as far as I'm concerned, we still have a case," Harm stated, then paused for a moment. Judging by Mac's playful remark, he felt it was safe to ask what he was about to ask. "So, how about we go over the minor details of our argument at my apartment? Over dinner? Tomorrow night?"

"Hmm, first roses and now dinner," she jested. "Is this a date, Mr. Rabb?"

His ears burned red again, but he caught on faster that she was still messing with him. He calmed down and for a moment he simply stared at her longingly. In that same moment, she thought he might say, Yes, this is a date, Ms. Mackenzie.

Instead, he just laughed softly and responded with a boyish grin, "No, it's not a date...."

"I'll be there around 6 then," she agreed with a casual smile and a playful wink. She took a quick sniff of the roses and smiled wider, "Thanks for the roses."

"You're welcome," he replied softly. This was a very rare moment, considering what had happened in the past year. She was in a terrifically great mood. She was playful and smiling. She appeared okay with the fact that it wasn't a real date and he relaxed. Even after all this time, Sarah Mackenzie and her sense of humor continued to puzzle him.

**March 23, 2004**

**Harm's Apartment**

**North of Union Station**

It was another normal night of going over case work and joking about the bad meatloaf. After nearly eight years of friendship, it was still hard to describe their relationship. Outsiders would probably proclaim the relationship between the two of them as completely burned out. That it had no chance of rekindling what it used to have, but if you asked the two of them, they would say different.

They would say it had more than a chance of surviving. They believed with all their heart it would outlast anything and everything. Mostly because if their friendship were to be completely crushed, they knew they had no one else to turn to. They both learned this the hard way when he went traversing around the globe as an CIA agent. That was why, even after saying never in Paraguay, they had no choice but to learn to live with each other.

He had invited her over for dinner to discuss the case. Seeing how his prelude to asking was giving her roses, she could've mistaken it for a date. Naturally, they both knew it was just a work meeting.

Dinner plates were nearly empty and conversation minimal. Before joining JAG, Mac probably would've been eating dinner alone...out of a Chinese food carton. Harm would've been warding off the advances of Comdr. Krennick. Or hiding out in some bar drinking beer and pretending to enjoy the baseball game on the TV screen. Deep down, they both had to agree eating dinner together was a better alternative. So why not just go on a date?

Mac looked up at Harm, who seemed to be content in staring at her over the rim of his glass. That Rabb sparkle was still there and it nearly made her half smile. Eight years ago, she would've given him a 100 watt smile and he would've smiled just as brightly back.

That was the difference. They had changed from "love-sick co-workers trying to stay professional" to "love starved friends looking for a break." There was a bond between them no one could sever. It was unconditional. However, the bond was also very delicate. Several times, they were very close to never speaking again. Then again, they would probably look back on those moments and laugh. Harm without Mac or Mac without Harm? No one would dare say such a thing. It just didn't seem plausible.

"Finished?" he asked, breaking the silence finally. An intense staring contest had started, but something was eerie about this one. Like they were both thinking the same thing at the same time.

"Yeah," she replied and held up her plate for him to take. Their fingers made brief contact while making the exchange and the spark was there. Maybe not as strong, but it seemed no matter what happened, it would never go away. As if on cue, Mac stood up to sit on the couch and Harm turned to the sink. They both ignored the contact. Just like they always had.

Time passed slowly. The water sloshed around in the sink while he cleaned up the dishes. The papers rustled as she sifted through them. The faint sound of bass came through the walls; most likely Mattie's radio. So many sounds and it was still unbearably quiet. She looked up at him over her folder and sighed inwardly.

Maybe someday they would learn to love each other, but for now, they had more important things to discuss...

"So, you never told me what the fortune said," Harm joked, while he dried the last dish from dinner. She remained on the couch, trying to ignore him. It had been a week since Petty Officer Coates promotion dinner and Harm had asked relentlessly what her fortune said. She had a feeling he already knew what it said and was asking to be a pain in the ass.

"I told you I forgot and it doesn't matter anyway," she insisted and turned away from him.

"No, no...Mac. I told you what mine said, I want to know what yours said."

"Harm," Mac sighed sounding physically exhausted. "I came over to talk about the current case, not about fortune cookies."

"No, I think you came over so I could make you dinner," Harm corrected, his voice still sounding annoyingly boyish. "Admit it. You love my meatless meatloaf."

A part of her wanted to joke around with him; like old times. Another part kept telling her times like that were long gone. Yesterday, she made the mistake of playing along with him. The 'love between lovers', in retrospect, was probably a good innuendo. However, it was said at the wrong time. Instead of some witty retort, she simply rolled her eyes for the umpteenth time that night and Harm could finally see she was no longer in a joking mood. How quickly the night had turned sour.

"Okay, sorry," Harm sobered up and freed his hands of soap and water. He leaned on the counter and asked, "So, what's next?"

"We can drive all the way to NCIS to discuss a joint operation," she suggested, sounding glad he decided to let the fortune cookie thing go.

"No way," Harm immediately objected. "They'll just take our case from us."

She agreed and added, "Hanson was connected to our murder case. . ."

"And there's nothing NCIS can do about that," Harm finished with strong tone of finality.

He made a good point. Hanson didn't show up for his meeting with Sturgis yesterday and missed it again today. The case seemed open and shut until NCIS came into the picture. They searched his home and found evidence that he hadn't been back for days. And now that it was two days later, the very same agents had deemed him missing. NCIS wanted to investigate...but Harm and Mac knew they could work around that at least for a little while.

"So, we work this case by ourselves?" she proposed. "Get the Admiral to approve further investigation?

"Sounds good to me. I'm sure the last thing AJ wants to do is hand our case over to them, " Harm agreed, then added softly. "Besides, that guy Gibbs is working the case and I just don't..."

". . .Want to work with him unless you're forced to," Mac finished for him. "I can understand seeing how he tried to pin a murder on you."

"Why do I sense humor in your voice?" Harm asked suspiciously.

"I've got to go now," she smiled softly and stood up to grab her coat.

"Webb?" Harm asked impulsively, knowing it wasn't his place to keep asking like that. It was just that, he always got that sinking, bottomless pit feeling whenever she announced she had to leave. For one, he didn't want her to leave...not when things were going so good. Two, it was Webb. What else needed to be said?

"Yes, Webb," she said almost teasingly, as she stopped at the door.

She could tell he was less than thrilled to hear she was meeting up with him again, but at this point she just didn't care anymore. If she left Webb, she would come over to a non-committal Harm. However, staying with Webb was causing Harm to become overprotective and judgmental. His voice always had a hint of disapproval and that was one thing she tired of. She needed more than just constant disappointment from her best friend. She sighed and asked "Is there a problem?"

"No, it's your life," Harm said rather indifferently.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Mac said, sounding very defensive, but decided to end the fight before it even began. "You know what? I don't need this right now."

"Mac, I'm sorry," Harm tried, but knew it was too late. This was the second time he had apologized in less than five minutes. When would he learn that Webb was just a topic he should just leave alone? He followed her to the door to say goodbye. "So, we'll look for Hanson ourselves?"

"Yep," she answered quickly.

"Okay, I'll see you tomorrow."

Tomorrow. There was always tomorrow. There was a short pause between them, their eyes locking for the last time that night.

"I guess you will," she stated still sounding irritated, but also looking eager to get going. She walked off with him watching until she reached the elevator. He didn't want her leaving like that. Annoyed with him.

"Mac?"

She turned around, waiting for him to speak but he lost his nerve. "Never mind. See you tomorrow."

She gave him a slightly confused look before entering the elevator. She didn't really want to leave either, but the tension was too much to bear for more than a couple of hours at a time. She rode the elevator down and stepped off. When she walked out the main door, she brushed past someone's shoulder, almost knocking them over. She apologized, but the person kept on walking without acknowledging her. Mac just shrugged it off and continued on towards her car.

------------------

He watched the elevator doors close before shutting his own door. He leaned against it suddenly feeling worse than when the night started. He walked over to his refrigerator and spotted the menu from the Chinese restaurant they all had eaten at the previous week.

"Yet," he repeated to himself. Just what did that word mean to him anyway? He said it and _yet _he was still here spinning his wheels; not making any progress. Something had to change. Either move on or do what he should've done years ago. A knock on the door startled him and suddenly made him hopeful. Maybe Mac came back. Maybe someone upstairs was giving him a tenth chance to make it right.

He reached the door and looked through the peephole. His heart skipped a beat in shock, but not because it was Mac. Someone else was at his door. Deep down, he knew this was going to be trouble, but somehow still felt obligated to say hello. He slowly opened the door and tried to smile, "Well, this is a surprise. It's been a long time."

"Yes it has, Harmon. Too long."

He studied his unexpected visitor. The longer he stood there, the more he wished he never answered the door. He leaned on the doorframe. He hoped his posture would indicate he didn't want company right now. He cleared his throat and asked, "What brings you by after so many years?"

"My life took a sudden turn. Needed a friend to talk to. Needed someone who was a good listener."

"A friend?" Harm questioned somewhat playfully. They were considered friends? Suddenly, Harm's gut told him something really wasn't right and he asked, "What's really going on?"

"We just need to...catch up."

Warning sirens blared in his head. He was prepared to shut the door, but his "old friend" produced a firearm. He had no choice but to let her in.

--------------------

Outside Mac was searching her purse for her keys, but realized she left them in his apartment. She would be forced to go back up and see him. She took a deep breath and told herself, _C'mon, Marine! He's your best friend, not the plague!_

She turned around just in time to hear the deathly sound of a gunshot. She held still, looking directly up to Harm's window. She was desperately hoping the sound wasn't coming from his place.

Unfortunately, she saw a figure about Harm's height fall backwards. She immediately ran back inside without even thinking about it. There was no reason to think. Forget their history. Forget their mistakes. If he were to die right now, none of that would matter in the end. This was Harm and he was in trouble. He needed her. With lightning speed, she was up the stairs; skipping them two at a time.

Harm's door was still propped open. She ran in and skidded to a stop on the hardwood floor. He was on the ground not moving and she called out, "Harm!"

She thought she saw his arm move and that was enough to tell her he was still alive. In a flash, she was on her knees next to him on the carpet, grabbing his hand in reassurance. His eyes showed obvious pain and his hand gripped hers with a deathly grip. "Harm, you have to let go. I'm going to call 911."

"No," he croaked, refusing to let go of her hand. "Wait...not safe!"

"Harm, there is blood everywhere...let me help you," she insisted, finally able to release her hand from his weakening grip. She made a quick glance of the apartment, but could see no one. It wasn't a very thorough check for safety, but Harm was bleeding profusely. Next, she went in search of his phone.

Harm tried to sit up so he could warn her, but his leg had other ideas. Not only did the bullet pierce the flesh, but his entire leg was going numb. His head felt like it was going to explode. He collapsed back to the floor, while Mac picked up his phone.

Before she could dial anything, she heard a creak in the floor. She froze, trying to listen but it was silent again. It was nothing.

"Sorry, hon...I already have enough Marines," came the voice of someone else behind her. She turned around to fight, but was defenseless. The butt of the gun crashed down on her head almost immediately. The blow knocked her out. Everything went black.

To be continued...


	3. Bumps and Bruises

Disclaimer: not mine

Author's Note: Early posting! Haha, it's going to snow here and I'm heading home. I'm afraid I won't be back in time to post, hence the early posting before I leave. Next, I believe Liz asked if she should brace for more angst. The answer is yes. (wink) Also, I really am a moron. Forgot to do this in the last two chapters. (slaps forehead.) Special thanks to Katie for beta reading and for helping me to get my facts straight. You rock!

**The Seven**

by e-dog

Chapter Three

"Bumps and Bruises"

**March 23, 2004**

**McMurphy's Bar**

One by one, they were disappearing.

Former United States Marines (later employed by the CIA) were being picked up and forgotten like yesterday's news. Corporal Brian Hanson being the latest. Even though Brian was not employed by the CIA, he was taken for the same reasons as the others.

The suspect of murdering his CO, Brian was supposed to attend an Article 32 hearing. He went missing after his parents literally bailed him out. His assigned attorney's Comdr. Turner and Lt. Roberts chalked it up to tardiness. Unfortunately, after two days had passed, the Naval Criminal Investigative Service was called in. The overzealous effort of this certain NCIS crew, deemed Brian missing. "Abducted" was the word Agent Gibbs had used.

To understand Brian's abduction, you had to understand the man under the uniform. Brian was your typical rich, white kid who lacked discipline. A great definition of all the rich, white boy stereotypes. Handsome and cocky. Borderline alcoholic who loved to party. A ladies man who had several traffic tickets for speeding in his brand new Mercedes. Yep. He had the makings of becoming one of those prime suspects of rape charges. The kind of criminal easily found on tv shows like Law and Order.

His parents, who wanted to prove they had some power over their reckless son, sent him away to boot camp. His life was spiraling out of control so quickly, they feared that he would eventually commit a terrible crime. Now, Brian wasn't sent to some ordinary boot camp. His parents forced him to enlist in the Marines. Every Marine will tell you the Corps straightened them out. Brian was no exception.

It didn't take too long for Brian to lose his old ways. He was forced to shave his long locks away; be responsible and tidy. Countless times during the day, he was screamed and hollered at for little things. This was enough for him to drop the ego and grow up. Even still, you couldn't replace all of who Brian was. He still liked to party and that's what his defense attorney's thought had happened. They assumed he got drunk and passed out somewhere.

Most men stayed in the Corps after boot camp, while very few went home with their tail between their legs. Despite his addiction to clubs and dancing, Brian obviously stayed in the Corps and became a good Marine. A strong and smart Marine. Why smart?

Because he discovered the secret behind his non-promotion. He knew why General Antonio Ricardo wanted nothing to do with him. When Brian showed up on the doorstep of the CIA offices, he sealed his fate. He had no idea someone had been tracking his every move for the last two weeks.

He dumped files on them. Two stacks full of Ricardo's defection. E-mails, direct orders, routine paperwork. All of it, in some way or another, craftily encoded the answers the CIA had been looking for. Brian was satisfied that he was finally able to do some good. He had been sober for three weeks up to the point of delivering the files. When he left that afternoon, he could be remembered saying, "I'll sleep well tonight."

That very same night, only two scenarios made sense. First scenario: Hanson approached Ricardo, called him out on his double life, then killed him. That one the Agency didn't believe. Why murder Ricardo after handing in all the evidence to put him away? No, the second scenario was much more plausible. Ricardo approached Hanson, asking him to back off. Hanson told him it was already too late, that it was over. In a blind rage, Ricardo wielded his knife and attacked Hanson. In the end, Ricardo was on the ground, knife directly in the center of his chest.

The CIA knew why Brian killed Ricardo. They knew they should've watched Brian more closely. They also knew something was wrong when Brian missed his hearing. Did they do anything? No. Would they let Clayton Webb do anything? Again, no. Just like everything else, they wanted to keep their hands clean. Brian Hanson was merely a victim in the overall scheme of things. It was like he never showed up on their doorstep. He never provided them with the best intelligence on a fairly new terrorist group that was growing every day. No one would ever know Brian's sacrifice.

It was late and the bar had few patrons left sitting on the red and brown stools. The basketball game that was playing was over and many of the fanatics had left disappointed. Their team had lost. That left one lone man sitting in the back drowning his sorrows away. Drinking to commemorate Corporal Hanson.

Clayton Webb took a long sip of something and tried to set the bottle down lightly on the table. Instead, he slammed it down and it rolled off the table, staining the floor. A waiter walked up quickly and tried to clean it up. Clay stumbled over his words and apologized, "I'm sorry about that...I really am."

"It's fine, sir," the waiter replied, clearly agitated. He walked off in search of more towels to clean up the mess.

Clay felt somewhat bad for the accident, but quickly forgot about it. He had other things to think about that were more important than spilled alcohol. Although, he was partly sad he had nothing else to drink.

He had called his mother earlier. Yes, a man his age still emotionally dependant on his mother. He needed advice about life in which she responded with some statement like, "A person like you doesn't really have a life, Clay. Your father understood that, I understood that...and at one point you did too. What changed?"

What changed? He was sick of seeing people like Brian end up with the short straw. He was tired of being treated like an incompetent agent. What changed? Maybe his mother and father were never really in love or she would completely understand what changed. He had always told himself a woman would never compromise his lifestyle. He always understood he would never have time for love, but something about Sarah Mackenzie changed that.

She was the first woman to understand his way of life, which should have naturally made the relationship easier. Unfortunately, understanding his CIA life and tolerating his CIA life were two completely different things. Nothing about their relationship was solid. It was either going somewhere or not going at all.

"Do you need me to call a taxi, sir?" the waiter asked, taking in Clay's drunken appearance.

"No, I'm fine," Clay insisted. He put money down on the table. More than enough to cover the wine and maybe two more bottles. He stood up, stumbled forward and exited the restaurant under his own power...just barely. Upon reaching his car, he was tapped on the shoulder. He whirled around in surprise but let a look of annoyance cross his face. "What do _you_ want?"

"Kershaw needs to see you," the man said plainly. He puffed a cigar and wore a dark coat. Your typical agent trained to track and retrieve. This man was obviously sent to follow him around town. To keep an eye on him. It was the kind of thing that happened to any agent that screwed up. After the mission in Paraguay, all of Clay's missions had been monitored. Someone was always there, ready to back him up if he botched the assignment. However, they were now following him during his personal time and that had to stop.

"What now?" Clay slurred, a smile crossing his face even though nothing was funny. "Can't I go to a bar without being followed?"

"As you know, your lawyer friends are now involved and there's a good chance they won't just leave this alone."

"Really?" Clay asked with mock surprise. "Now where would you get an idea like that?"

The agent relayed information Clay already knew. "Somehow, their suspect is among the group of missing military personnel. First NCIS, now JAG. That's too many organizations crossing over into our territory. Kershaw wants you to fix it."

Great. Now he was a cleaner too?

"I don't know if you know this, but Admiral Chegwidden doesn't take kindly to threats," Clay laughed, the alcohol suddenly taking over his system. Nausea began to hit like a ton of bricks. It was time to go home.

"Just meet Kershaw in the morning, preferably sober," the agent ordered before backing up and disappearing into the shadows. Clay smirked behind the agent's back before taking in the seriousness of the situation. In the past, he would've included Harm and/or Mac in one these investigations but Kershaw demanded this be CIA only. No one else. AJ would probably kick his ass, but he had to get JAG to back off the case and leave it to the "experts".

He leaned on his car, suddenly feeling like a betrayer. Harm used to be one of them and was damn good at his job. While Kershaw demanded JAG back off, in reality, Harm had every right to know what was going on. Clay had a good idea what would be troubling his dreams tonight. Should he tell Harm the truth? Or keep him out of the loop?

He opened the car door and hopped inside. There was one more thing to take care of before the night was over. He reached for a cell phone, presuming it was too late to call, but he would give it a try. He listened to the ringing until an automated voice answering system greeted him. "The person you are calling is unavailable. If you would like to leave a voice message, press 1 now..."

Clay did as told and talked into the phone, "Hey, Sarah. Listen, I know I was supposed to see you tonight, but I was tied up at work. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

Tomorrow. There was always tomorrow.

He hung up the phone, a little bit of guilt began to pang through him. How many more times would he have to lie about his whereabouts? Although, showing up at her apartment half drunk probably wasn't a good way of covering his tracks either. She knew he was drinking himself into a hole. At some point in her own life, she had been in the same place he was in right now. He rubbed his temples for a moment and prayed he didn't sound as awful as he felt.

He leaned back in his seat trying to sleep off the impending hangover, unaware that Sarah Mackenzie was knocked out and sprawled across Harm's floor.

**March 24, 2004**

**Harm's Apartment**

**North of Union Station**

"_Wait...not safe." _

"Ohhh," Mac moaned, opening her eyes slowly. She was still on Harm's floor; the smell of hardwood invaded her nostrils. Pieces of last night floated around in her mind, but it was hard to put them together.

"_Harm. . . let me help you." _

She slowly lifted herself up, but decided it was best to stay on the ground. She was still feeling dizzy. The spot where she had been struck was throbbing. She used her eyes to quickly canvas the room instead, searching for Harm. The sun was peeking through the windows making it easy to see. Easy to see that Harm was nowhere in sight. He was gone. She ran back in here to help him, but was unprepared to fight back. What was she thinking, running in here with no plan or strategy? Now all she had to show for it was a bump on her head.

What was even more confusing was the fact that Harm _was_ missing. She saw him on the ground in his blood stained shirt. Or. . . maybe it was just his jeans that had blood on them, she couldn't remember. Either way, he wouldn't have gotten up and left her on the floor. No, whoever shot Harm took him as well. Her mind tried to remember more, but it was all very vague. She could remember Harm and she could remember hitting the floor, but she couldn't remember much else.

She heard the door creak and she got up with more urgency, prepared to defend herself but it was only Mattie.

"Mattie?" she muttered.

"Mac? Are you alright?" Mattie came over to help her stand.

"I'm fine, but...," Mac began.

"Harm is gone, yeah I noticed," Mattie finished, trying to sound strong but it was obvious she was scared and confused. She continued to speak, but never formed a real sentence, "When I saw he wasn't here, and the blood, and you on the floor, I called the police. They should be here soon."

"Good. That was a good thing to do," Mac mumbled, mostly to herself trying to piece together everything about the past night.

She clearly remembered Harm, but she had a hard time placing the mysterious voice. It was possible, the person she had bumped shoulders with on the way out to her car was the culprit. After thinking for a few moments, however, she realized the person she bumped into she never saw. She never saw who attacked her either. For all she knew, they could be two completely different people. Mac took careful steps to the couch and sat down slowly hoping she could keep the room from spinning.

"Mattie, where were you last night?" Mac asked, a little incoherently.

"I went out," Mattie shrugged, looking a little guilty. "I didn't tell Harm. I left the stereo on to make him believe I was still in the room."

"We'll have to talk about that later," Mac half way promised, rubbing her eyes in frustration. Mattie watched Mac's behavior and suddenly understood Mac knew more than she was telling.

"Mac?" Mattie asked cautiously. "Do you know what happened to Harm?"

Mac looked up, somewhat dazed and bewildered. Sadness most likely radiated from her eyes because Mattie's face scrunched up like she was going to be sick. Mac wanted to explain what she saw, but she wasn't sure where to start or how to sugarcoat it so Mattie could take it as easily as possible. How could she say, Harm was shot in cold blood and that she could do nothing to stop it?

"Mattie?" came PO1 Jennifer Coates voice. Usually, Harm kept his door closed, so seeing it open automatically made her curious. She then saw Mac and came to attention, despite neither of them were in uniform. "Ma'am!"

Mac just waved her off and closed her eyes. Jenn lost the military stance and rushed in, "Is everything okay?"

"Oh, everything's just peachy," Mac muttered bitterly. Jenn seemed taken aback slightly with her sarcastic words. Mac silently scolded herself for the comment. The more that went wrong her life, the worse her attitude became.

While Mattie relayed the events as best she knew them to Jenn, Mac slowly turned her head to look at the spot where Harm used to be. She didn't even have to be in a relationship anymore before the men in her life were taken from her. No matter what she did to distance herself from Harm, he was yet another victim of something she did or did not do. She didn't protect him. She failed him and now he was gone.

She looked back at Jenn who's face scrunched up in sorrow at the news that Harm was missing and/or hurt. She even took on a nurse persona at the news Mac was injured as well.

She sighed deeply. It was bad enough she had to tell Mattie that Harm was wounded and she couldn't stop it...now she had to tell both of them at the same time.

"Ma'am, can I get you an ice pack?" Jenn asked, but was already raiding Harm's freezer for something cold.

"No, I'm fine, Coates," Mac tried to insist, but Jenn wouldn't hear any of that. In a second, she was gently holding up the ice to where Mac indicated and there was immediate relief. Mac finally took charge and held the ice pack herself. She definitely didn't need an enlisted Squid holding the ice pack for her. It was taking everything in her to say thank you. She produced a weak smile, "Thanks, Jenn."

All formalities had been dropped now and Jenn asked anxiously, "What happened, Mac? Where's Harm?"

Before she could answer, a soft knock startled all of them.

"Ms. Grace? Are you Ms. Grace?" asked a gentleman in the open doorway, looking directly at Jenn. Both women looked up and Mattie immediately greeted the officer at the door.

"Yes, I'm Mattie. I placed the call...my guardian, Harm, is missing and my friend Mac was hurt!"

"Mattie, why don't I take it from here," Mac suggested, seeing the teenager's flustered demeanor was going to get them nowhere. Mattie looked slightly disappointed that she wouldn't get to tell the story. Jenn took this as her cue to leave as well. She and Mattie left the apartment leaving Mac alone with the police officer. Other crime scene personnel were now filtering into the apartment as well. Mac looked at all of them and asked, "Why are there so many of you here?"

"Ms. Grace, wasn't our only call. Someone else inside this building called us. They complained of a couple fighting loudly on this floor and possibly hearing a gun shot. Do you know anything about that?"

Mac paused for a second to try and say her words carefully. She and Harm were together, but she couldn't remember arguing loudly. "I was here when the gun shot went off and I ran back in to help, Harm."

"Harm?" the police officer asked for clarification. She was speaking slowly, constantly rubbing her head and holding ice. It was clear to him she was nothing more than a drunk girlfriend who lost her boyfriend.

"Commander Harmon Rabb, I'm sorry," she apologized and took a deep breath. "This is his apartment."

"Were you here prior to the shooting? In this apartment?" the officer continued to question. She spied his tag, which read Banan.

"Yes," Mac answered, rubbing the bump on her head to try and massage it. It was really bothering her.

"Were you two fighting?"

Mac looked up at that question and immediately saw where this was going. She and Harm were arguing, a gun shot was fired, now Harm was missing and she was the only one still here. Mac folded her arms and smiled wittingly, "I think I might need a lawyer."

"Are you guilty of something?" Officer Banan asked suspiciously.

"No, but since I was the last one to see Harm alive, I think it's best I try to defend myself now," Mac answered and looked around the apartment. Then a thought hit her. "If someone else called about a noise complaint from last night, why are you only responding now?"

Banan paused, surprised she caught that slip up. It was obvious he wasn't dealing with a drunken girlfriend after all. Before he could stutter a response, she immediately went into Marine mode. She was livid. "I could have your badge, Banan! I'll have you know I spent the entire night unconscious on this floor, because your sorry ass couldn't get over here to investigate a noise complaint!"

"So..so, you do admit to fighting, then?" he tried to regain control, but that wasn't happening.

"No, Harm and I were not fighting," she spoke in a calm, steady voice. She was still furious, but that extra calm that overtook her as well made her all the more frightening. "I do know, that if a couple were fighting somewhere in this apartment, no matter what the circumstances. . .someone should've been here to cover it!"

"Excuse me, officer. Call off your men," a familiar voice ordered from the doorway. Mac's ranting ended there as she immediately recognized him. Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs was standing there, growing impatient with the officer's reluctance to comply to his order. If it was even possible, his gaze became all the more menacing. "Call off your men _now_."

"Who the hell are you?" Banan asked rudely. Already tempers over territory were flaring.

It was then a younger, much more brass agent stepped in. Mac was sure she remembered him from Harm's murder case. Tony was his name...maybe? Well, Tony flashed a bright smile and pointed at his baseball cap, "Read the hat, genius. We're NCIS."

To be continued. . .


	4. The Crime at Union Station

Disclaimer: not mine

Author's Note: Flashback sequences will be distinguished by italics.

**The Seven**

by e-dog

Chapter Four

"The Crime at Union Station"

**March 26, 2004**

**JAG Headquarters**

**Falls Church, Virginia**

_Agent Gibbs walked into the interrogation room with the same long, stern face he wore at Harm's apartment. Mac looked up at him and watched him sit down. He had made his decision a long time ago. No matter what he was going to say now, he still felt she was involved with Harm's kidnaping somehow. From the moment he accused Harm of murdering Loren Singer, he automatically felt disfavor towards the people at JAG. At least that was the vibe he was always giving off. _

_There was the hint of a quirky smile as he told her, "You're free to go." _

"_I told you this was a waste of time," she said, sounding bitter. Sounding disappointed in herself. _

"_The gun found in Commander Rabb's room was wiped clean and the gun shot residue test we did on your hands was negative," he continued, just following protocol. He was supposed to at least tell her what they were testing for and the results. He stood up and finished, "We thank you for cooperating." _

That conversation happened two days ago and since she was no longer a suspect, NCIS had reached a dead end. Her desk was cluttered and she needed to unclutter it, but she couldn't focus. The events that took place at Harm's apartment were still on her mind. That look of anguish that was on his face still met her in her dreams.

Maybe she should try and look on the bright side. She had been cleared of any wrong doing and the lawyer wasn't necessary, so that was a relief. Even still, the way Gibbs was treating her, she would've thought she really had done something wrong. He practically ignored her and gave her discouraging looks. It unsettled her greatly, but once Gibbs told her she could go home, she did.

Besides the treatment from Gibbs, it turned out the neighbor who complained of a loud couple arguing, didn't exist. Mac sat back in her office chair and thought back on the incident.

"_I want to meet this mysterious neighbor," Gibbs told Banan. _

_The local police grumbled, very unhappy they were taking orders from Naval Investigators. Nonetheless, they searched the entire apartment complex. They couldn't find this mystery neighbor anywhere. _

_Banan, the officer who had been questioning her, told Gibbs the news. That was a mistake. Gibbs was downright furious at the shoddy police work. They had no name of this person and no description. He said very loudly, "What the hell kind of police work do you actually do around here, Mr. Banan?" _

Gibbs could bark his discontent until the cows came home, but no matter what he said or did, that complaining neighbor was gone. In the end, everyone concluded the neighbor was most likely a planted accomplice to keep the police, NCIS and Mac distracted. Distracted long enough to allow the real perpetrator enough time to get away. Far, far away.

A phone ringing shrilly from the bullpen brought her back to the present. After that day's events, Mac made it a point to never live anywhere near Union Station. The neighborhood was less than desirable and the law enforcement was just appalling.

After two more days had passed, it was safe to assume that Harm was either dead or holed up in a very unpleasant place. She was having a hard time accepting Harm as dead or being tortured for whatever reason. She then thought back on their dinner and wanted to weep. It was ironic how now, she wished the night had gone better. They were at such an awkward point in their relationship and it had been left unfinished. It appeared that they may never resolve it either.

She glanced over to the corner of her desk and smiled. The two yellow roses and one red sat in a vase, slowly wilting away after so little care. Harm's little speech about yellow roses and the love between. . . friends resurfaced. She obtained a new urgency to take care of them and went on a mission for water.

She entered the bullpen with her empty mug and looked around. Going back to work for the first time since Harm went missing wasn't easy either. Admiral AJ Chegwidden was giving her special treatment. Being too kind with the work load and being too sympathetic. She didn't need a light work load or a compassionate Admiral. She needed to know Harm would be okay. She needed more work to distract her because she knew there was nothing she could do. Not to mention, her guilt was unbearable.

By the time she got home after talking to the authorities, she received a drunken phone message from her boyfriend. He was 'sorry he missed her'. He would 'talk to her tomorrow'. In other words, Clay was drunk off his ass, going to cancel the date anyway and she could've stayed with Harm that night. She could've been there when the shooter busted in. She could've said she was there for her friend and not one gunshot too late.

Of course, the always rational Commander Sturgis Turner saw it differently.

His hand came to rest on her shoulder in a comforting manner. His brown eyes met hers and he dropped the formalities. Always deadly serious, he told her the truth, "Mac, if you had stayed, you would be dead."

"You don't know that, Sturgis," Mac shook her head in denial. "I could've done something. . ."

"Listen to yourself," Sturgis told her with an urgency she had never seen from him. "That's crazy talk. You and I both know you staying with Harm would've ended badly."

She continued to ignore his thinking and almost got away, before he stopped her again. "I know we haven't always been on the best of terms. . .but you should know, I'm very happy you left his apartment when you did."

She gave him a thoughtful stare and weakly smiled, "Thank you, Sturgis."

He smiled with her and added playfully, "Now, Colonel, I suggest the next time you run back into a dangerous situation blindly, that you call me first."

"Are you suggesting that me running back in after Harm was stupid?" she asked, somewhat relieved this conversation had taken a lighter note.

"I'm saying, you're very lucky," he said with a gracious smile.

It seemed that Mac had met a different side of Sturgis. She had always known his bond with Harm was a strong one, but he had never expressed this kind of concern for her. It was a welcomed surprise from the by-the-book Commander.

After talking to Sturgis, Clay had stopped by to see her, obviously getting over a recent hangover. He was going to inform her to lay off the case but she didn't need to be told twice. NCIS matched Harm's abduction with the disappearance of Corporal Hanson. At the previous crime scene, there was evidence of struggle, blood, and gun shot powder. All of those things present at Harm's apartment.

Despite the fact all physical evidence was circumstantial, NCIS took the case from her. JAG no longer had an investigation concerning Corporal Brian Hanson, therefore Mac could do absolutely nothing to help find Harm. Clay seemed disappointed he couldn't deliver the news, but tried his best to comfort her. He quickly discovered his attempts weren't working and he eventually took the hint and left her alone.

To accompany her sorrow, spirits at JAG were just as low as hers. No one felt like working knowing their close and very much loved colleague was missing or dead. Jennifer was less cheery (and less nosy). Lt. Harriet Sims-Roberts had stopped by to see her on occasion; just to say hello. Bud and Sturgis's rekindled bond couldn't have happened at a better time. They were able to find solace in each other and talk things through. Everyone was walking on eggshells, waiting for some good news.

She was walking back to her office, when Harriet stopped her, "Ma'am?"

"Yes, Lieutenant?" Mac turned around, forcing a smile.

"Any word?" Harriet asked hopeful.

"I don't think Gibbs will be talking to me any time soon, Harriet," Mac said dispirited. Harriet's face fell at that comment and Mac amended, "But when he does call, you'll be the first to know."

Harriet brightened up a little bit, but she knew the chances were slim now, and getting slimmer as the day wore on. "Thanks, Ma'am. I'm sure he's fine."

After watering Harm's gift, she was getting together the last of the files on their case. She read Corporal Hanson's name one last time before closing the file for good. Gibbs and his team were certain the same people who took Hanson were the same people who took Harm. She couldn't deny how much of a coincidence it was for Hanson and Harm to be abducted just days apart from each other. Harm was the prosecutor and Hanson the defendant. However, no matter which way you looked at it, the case was their only connection. Nothing indicated that Harm had met Hanson before in his life and vice versa.

There was a soft tap on her door, breaking her from her thoughts. She looked up and saw a very unfamiliar face. A woman with dark hair and kind eyes. She was donning a greyish-tan coat and clutching her purse with a sense of apprehension. Like she was nervous. Mac came to her senses and tried to erase the fatigue from her face. "Can I help you?"

"Uh, you don't know me," the woman began. By the way she acting, it was almost like she was amazed with how anxious she was. She finally flashed her badge. "Special Agent Kate Todd. NCIS."

"Oh," Mac answered, a little surprised. She offered her visitor a chair. "Came to ask more questions?"

Kate took the chair and folded her arms in her lap. She cleared her throat first then answered, "Actually, no. We went over the police report about your whereabouts and last encounter with Commander Rabb."

"Then why are you here?" Mac asked, definitely confused now.

"Agent Gibbs wants you to assist with the investigation," Kate informed her and watched the shock wash over the Colonel's face. She smiled softly understanding the dazed expression. Once again, Gibbs' reputation preceded him. She added, "He feels your intuition and familiarity with Commander Rabb could help."

Mac did a slight double take at that remark and asked, "He does?"

"Not really, but I convinced him you should be a part of it," Kate finally admitted, starting to look even more uncomfortable.

"You convinced him? I don't understand. You don't even know me," Mac rambled. She wasn't really sure why she was trying to talk herself out of helping. It was what she wanted in the first place! It was just the unusual circumstances that befuddled her.

"No, I don't know you. Except of course of what I've read in your file," Kate acknowledged and made eye contact with Mac. "It's just, I was sitting at my desk thinking. . .and based on what I've heard about you and the Commander, I know it must be hard to just sit back and watch."

"I guess that makes more sense," Mac chuckled lightly and leaned back. "I'm sure Agent Gibbs wouldn't have me join the team just because he felt sorry for me."

"Ma'am, you were the last one to see Commander Rabb," Kate reminded her. "And the last one to see the kidnapper. You're the best lead we've had since this case began."

Mac nodded in agreement, but pointed out, "I didn't really see who shot Harm or who hit me on the head. How are you so sure the people who attacked Harm are the same ones who abducted Corporal Hanson?"

"I understand your doubts," Kate replied and leaned forward. She found it interesting the Colonel was referring to the Commander as 'Harm'. Maybe these two officers were closer than she realized.

Kate finished, "However, all the physical evidence points in that direction."

"Physical evidence that's all circumstantial," Mac pointed out, to which Agent Todd smiled knowingly.

Instead of commenting on that, the agent finished, "Even still, you were there. We would like to take you back to Commander Rabb's apartment and recreate the scene. Whatever you can remember such as smells, tastes or anything could be very helpful. Of course, you don't have to do this..."

Mac took a moment to think. It was obvious the agents at NCIS were spinning their wheels. Recreate the scene? They had nothing to connect Harm to their case and were now trying to get creative. However, participating in this would allow Mac access to the case and ultimately, she hoped it would lead her to Harm. She finally agreed, "No, I will. Are we going to do this as soon as possible?"

"Right now, if you're ready, Ma'am. I've already cleared this with your CO."

"I'm ready," Mac said anxiously and grabbed her cover. She walked around the desk and smiled gently at Kate, "You can call me Mac, Agent Todd. Everyone else does."

"Kate," the agent replied. The two of them studied each other, passing along fake smiles. Kate knew Mac was participating in this exercise for her own agenda. Mac knew Kate was desperately looking for a lead. Either way, this was all they had and they had to work with it. The eye contact established an understanding between the two of them. They both realized that neither one of them was foolish and a respect was already building.

The two women were side by side as they walked through the bullpen to reach the elevator. The bullpen watched the Colonel leaving with the agent, wondering if there was a lead on Harm. For a moment, they collectively held their breath until Mac was out of sight. Then they were back to work. All they could do was wait.

**March 26,2004**

**Harm's Apartment**

**North of Union Station**

Special Agent Tony Dinozzo stood there in awe. She was absolutely stunning. It was taking all the will power within him not to make a pass at her. His brain miraculously kicked in and told him: _Okay, Tony. Calm yourself. She's just experienced a loss._ He understood that he had to keep his hands and his comments to himself. Even still, after a few seconds, he was gone again. Lost in some fantasy world that consisted of him, Colonel Mackenzie and a white picket fence. He couldn't help but ogle at her beauty. He scrunched his forehead pondering his options.

Okay, so the Colonel was older than him. His luck with older women had never been good. She was in the military, which possibly raised more problems. His eyes scanned every part of her...at least what he could before Kate glared at him. He shivered for a brief second. That glare always made him shiver. He straightened up and adverted his eyes away from the Colonel. Maybe sometime in the _very _near future he would make his move. Until then, they had a job to do.

"So how will this work?" Mac asked, turning to Kate.

"We need to start from the very beginning and work towards the end," Kate explained. "Our first option is acting it out. Or you can close your eyes and try to recall all the details from your mind. It's up to you."

"Okay," Mac nodded, mulling it over. "Every detail?"

"Every detail," Kate repeated to confirm. She noticed Mac's apprehension and suggested, "Let's try acting it out?"

"Fine," Mac shrugged, not really ready to do this.

"Okay, Tony will be play the part of the attacker," Kate dictated and motioned for Tony to take his place behind Mac. "I will ask the appropriate questions to stimulate your mind. To help you remember."

Tony snapped to, coming out of his daydreams of the Colonel, and stood behind her. "Right here?"

"Yeah, that's where the shooter was," Mac nodded at him and gave him a half smile. He nearly melted into ecstasy. When Mac turned back around, Tony took this as his opportunity to view her from behind.

Did this man have any dignity? Kate smacked Tony with great force across the back of his head as punishment for staring and he winced in pain. Mac had noticed the banter between the two agents, but tried not to pay attention. Kate stood next to Mac and smiled encouragingly, "What's the first thing you remember when you entered the Commander's apartment?"

Mac stared at the spot where she recalled seeing Harm. Slowly, her mind's eye produced a picture of him there, his body laying awkwardly on the floor. She cleared her throat and began to reply, "I saw...Harm lying on the floor. There was blood all over his...uh...pants. I think." Her memory was fading. She couldn't remember how fatal the gunshot wound was. Was that important? Great. Five seconds into this exercise and she was already panicking.

"It's okay if you can't remember everything," Kate jumped in, sensing frustration in her voice. "What do you remember after seeing Harm?"

"I called out his name," Mac continued. "I wanted to see if he was conscious. His response was a subtle arm movement, but that was enough for me to know he was alive." Kate watched as Mac talked and walked to the very same spot she indicated. She kneeled down and continued, "I held Harm's hand tightly. I wanted to reassure him that I was here. He told me it wasn't safe. I thought he was just trying to take charge. I told him to let me help him. . ."

Mac stopped, listening to herself. Going back over every detail. Every emotion. The whole event took place in mere minutes, but so much had happened. She was suddenly very uncomfortable with this. Should she stop?

Kate and Tony allowed her to pause, not wanting to interrupt. Kate had a good feeling this exercise wouldn't yield great results, but she had read enough about Colonel Mackenzie to know she wasn't a mentally heathy woman. Gibbs had read her file as well and was still discouraged the physical evidence excluded Mac as the perpetrator. So, he wanted Kate to evaluate Mac. That meant profiling her. Despite she knew it wasn't her place, she was given an order. She knew allowing the Colonel to participate would force her to recall every detail and come to terms with it. That was the first step in accepting loss. Kate could only hope that Mac wouldn't catch on.

Tony could too, see a difference. He realized what he was dealing with. Colonel Mackenzie wasn't just a hot Marine JAG lawyer who lost a colleague. The way she was describing the scene. The delicacy in her choice of words. The use of Harm's name. No, she was more then what his childish mind had previously conceived. He wasn't a fool, despite Kate's theories about his sexually driven psyche. He knew when a woman was in love with someone else. He could see how much Harm meant to her. He coughed slightly, giving Kate a sign it was time to move on.

"Are you okay, Colonel?" Kate asked, then added quickly, "I know this is difficult for you...we can stop. . ."

"I finally freed my hand from his grip and retrieved the phone," Mac suddenly started up again. "Then there was someone else behind me."

Kate nodded at Tony who took a few steps forward, pretending to assault Mac. Mac turned around, as if on cue and grabbed Tony's arm to protect herself. She accidently squeezed too hard and Tony's eyes widened in pain. Mac didn't seem to notice, lost in her thoughts, and Kate couldn't help but smile in amusement at Tony's pained expression. Mac shook her head and said, "No, this is wrong. The person didn't advance towards me. I had no time to fight back."

She let go of Tony's arm who in turn released a breath of relief. He shook his arm to get the blood flowing again. He stepped back and smiled to himself. Colonel Mackenzie was a _powerful_ woman. He couldn't ask for anything more. He watched Mac tilt her head to the side as if she were trying better to remember something. She closed her eyes and said, "She told me, I already have enough Marines."

"She?" both Kate and Tony repeated. Up until now, they had no idea if the abductor was a he or a she. Kate stepped forward and asked again, "It was a she?"

"Yes," Mac nodded. "The voice was scratchy too."

"Have you or the Commander met anyone who sounds like that?" Tony asked.

"I never have," Mac sighed in frustration. "It's possible Harm knew his attacker."

"The Marines comment is interesting as well," Kate mused out loud. "Hanson was a Marine and that comment indicates that other Marines have been taken. We're going to have to search all missing persons records within the last month and cold cases. See if we can find any matches."

Tony nodded in agreement and it appeared the agents were ready to move on. Ready to search the databases for more clues, but Mac was less than satisfied. "Agent Todd? You do realize Harm is in the Navy. Why would the people who took Hanson, take him too?"

Kate paused, knowing she didn't have an answer for that. The Marine comment was a shaky connection, but this is what they had to work with. So, she came up with a standard ambiguous response. "There is obviously a connection we're not seeing, Mac."

Mac wanted to fight more on this, but it seemed it would be in vain. She knew coming into this that their case was very thin. Tony announced he would call Gibbs and start up the car outside. With a cell phone attached to his ear, he left. Kate was just about to follow when Mac grabbed her arm. Her grip was firm and Kate knew what was coming.

"I know the real reason you put me through that," Mac said simply, not releasing her hold on Kate's arm.

"Mac, please understand. . .," Kate tried to explain. "I had to do a background check on you and Gibbs told me. . ."

"I'm beginning to think involving me was Gibbs' idea all along," Mac said mostly in disbelief. "No, I think Gibbs had doubts I could hold myself together during this investigation. . .He still thinks I'm involved!"

"Mac," Kate tried to explain again, but there was no chance of that.

"Don't think for a second that your profiling techniques give you the means to understand me," Mac warned, her eyes becoming dark and narrow. "You will never understand me."

Her tone was calm, yet still firm. The agent did her best not to waver, but her eyes gave away she was intimidated. They showed how sorry she already was for interfering and that was enough for Mac. She let go of Kate and stepped back to give both of them some breathing room. Mac grabbed her cover off the couch and then looked at Kate, "I would appreciate that the next time you decide to psycho-analyze me, that you don't."

"Yes, Ma'am," Kate replied dully as Mac brushed past her to leave.

Kate released all the air she had been holding and sighed. She was always too emotionally involved with the victims. She always assumed she could figure them out within the first five minutes of speaking to them. It was becoming painfully obvious that she couldn't profile everyone and understand them automatically. She shut Harm's door behind her and waited on the elevator to come back. She was wrong to interfere, but she was right about one thing. Mac needed help from someone to help her deal with adversity. Maybe someday, Mac would allow her to provide it.

She stepped outside to meet Tony's concerned stare. "What Tony?"

"I was talking to Gibbs," he replied. "They found the body of a former Marine on the side of a dirt road."

He seemed to be pausing for dramatic effect and Kate looked at him to continue, "His name is Mark Daniels. He joined the Marines at the age of 24, stayed in the Corps for 10 years. He was offered a job working for the CIA after he was discharged."

"What does this have to do with Hanson or Rabb?" Kate asked, still not understanding the point.

"Well, I was talking to Colonel Mackenzie about it," Tony continued. He motioned his head in Mac's direction. She was waiting by her car. "When I said CIA, she told me that Rabb was also employed for the CIA back in September. The only reason she didn't say anything before was because she didn't find it relevant."

"The CIA," Kate repeated out loud. "We didn't think of that. . . Maybe Rabb, Hanson and Daniels are all connected through the boys at Langley. . ."

"The Colonel agrees with you there," Tony nodded as they walked to their car. Then he added, "She's going to follow us back to NCIS. I have a feeling she's going to stick around until we find Rabb."

"She's a Marine, Tony," Kate responded and watched as Mac hopped into her car. "I wouldn't expect her to do anything less."

To be continued. . .


	5. The Seven

Disclaimer: not mine

**The Seven**

by e-dog

Chapter Five

"The Seven"

**March 26, 2004**

**CIA Headquarters**

**Langley, Virginia**

Harrison Kershaw tapped a finger on his desk impatiently. He wanted answers. He wanted anything. Hell, fruitcake probably would've been acceptable, except Clay had no fruitcake. All he had were old, tired excuses. He stared at his boss timorously and realized, Kershaw was not in the mood for excuses. And after careful consideration, he probably wouldn't want fruitcake now either. Damn it. How did he always screw things up so badly?

"You went to JAG to terminate their investigation?" Kershaw repeated more like a statement than a question.

"Yes, sir," Clay answered.

"Then tell me why Colonel Mackenzie has teamed up with NCIS on the very same investigation I told you to terminate?" Kershaw demanded, slamming a fist down on his desk angrily. Clay jumped slightly. Why was Mac teamed up with NCIS? It didn't take a genius to figure that out. She wanted to find Harm. When he arrived at JAG and saw how heartbroken she was, he already knew what was running through her mind. She was thinking, _What can I do to make sure I don't lose him? _

This realization nearly killed him. Was she ever really in love with him? Or was it always Harm she was waiting for? As much as he wanted that question answered, now was not the time to think about it. Kershaw started to tap his fingers, waiting on an answer. Clay cleared his throat and went to explain, but Kershaw beat him to the punchline. "Are you going to apologize to me now, Webb? Is that what you're going to do?"

"No, sir."

"Another excuse? Let me guess. It's hidden at the bottom of some liquor bottle," Kershaw ranted some more, before standing up out of his chair. That was not a good sign. Now Kershaw was standing. Despite his short stature, he had power over his employees when he stood up. Kershaw slowly walked around the desk and approached Clay, who was sweating bullets at this point. "What's your excuse this time?"

"I didn't expect NCIS to recruit the Colonel for further...," Clay tried again, but Kershaw silenced him by raising his hand.

"Sit down, Clay," Kershaw told him gently.

Clay furrowed his brow in bewilderment and in fear. Kershaw's tone of voice had changed from angry to sympathetic all too quickly. That was a bad sign. What was he going to say?

Oh no. Clay was going to be fired. After years of excellent service to the CIA and this country, Kershaw was going to fire him. He could feel it. He sank into the leather cushion of the office chair feeling lower than he could ever feel. He rubbed his hand over his face and peeked over it to spy his boss sitting back down behind his desk.

"Clay, what's going on?" Kershaw asked pointedly. "_Who_ or what has changed your ability to do your job correctly?"

Clay sighed in relief when he saw Kershaw wasn't going to sack him. . .yet. He tried to sit up straighter and spoke calmly, "I'm...seeing someone. I...uh, I miss her and I think she wants to terminate the relationship."

"Who are you seeing, Clay?" Kershaw asked, although Clay had a good idea he already knew.

"Colonel Mackenzie," Clay answered quietly.

"I see," Kershaw nodded and folded his hands in thought. He looked Clay directly in the eyes and told him bluntly, "End it now."

"What?" Clay nearly shot up out of his chair. Was he serious? Dating advice from his boss?

"It's no secret you're dating, but it's effecting your performance," Kershaw stated unwaveringly. "You end it or I will."

"You can't end my relationship with Sarah!" Clay argued, now getting furious with Kershaw. "What the hell are you going to do if I don't end it?"

"I'll send you far away, Clay. On a long term mission, similar to Paraguay," Kershaw threatened. Despite the hard tone, his boss's eyes turned soft and nearly begged him to comply to his order. "You don't want me to do that, Clay. You've been in the field far too long. I don't want to be forced to send you away again."

Clayton Webb leaned back in the chair and stared at the floor. How could he be with Sarah and still do his job at the same time?

How?

He was going to allow Kershaw to send him away, that's how. He loved Sarah and nothing Kershaw could say would ever change that. Clay's eyes locked with Kershaw's and a determination rose in his voice, "You'll just have to send me away again. Hell, I'll accept an assignment in Germany, just as long as I can give myself a chance to make things right with her."

Clay watched his boss's eyes narrow in disappointment. He braced himself for a backlash. He knew Kershaw wouldn't take this lightly. What he didn't expect was what Kershaw said next:

"NCIS recovered Daniels body," Kershaw said suddenly. Clay froze, literally. His hands stopped twitching. His blood stopped coursing through his veins. Kershaw watched the reaction, pleased to see that announcement shook him up. He needed it too. He needed to knock some sense into his once best field agent.

Clay finally gasped, "Mark? He's dead?"

Kershaw just nodded yes and could say nothing more. Clay hung his head in shock, grief, and anger. Mark was like a father to everyone here. He couldn't be. . .dead. Clay mumbled, "The Seven?"

"Yes, Clay," Kershaw sighed deeply and leaned back in his chair.

These people were dead serious. Clay couldn't do this now. He abruptly stood up and walked out of the office. He needed air. He needed time to collect himself and do everything in his power to accept Mark's death and move on.

Before he realized it, he was outside. Sitting in his car. He didn't start the ignition. The heat wasn't on. Even though it was nearing spring weather, the winter freeze still lingered and he finally noticed the cold. He shivered. He looked at his clock and came to see he had been sitting outside for nearly 20 minutes. He finally sprang into action, turning around in his seat to access the back. He yanked at a box containing his firearm. He needed to be ready for whatever was to come. He thought back on how this all started. How Harm became involved.

The Seven was believed to have started years ago. As indicated by their name, seven individuals got together and formed this group that protested for equal rights, opposed war, etc.

At first, a very peaceful faction. They commenced protests against violence and fought for liberties such as, the right for a woman to have an abortion. Another popular cause was the getting rid of the "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" policy in the military. They felt it was demeaning to the gay community and it should be banned. While they had been watching them closely, the CIA didn't have a problem with The Seven until they stopped being peaceful.

About one year ago, The Seven purposely sabotaged a US led insurgence in Baghdad resulting in the deaths of several US Marines. Later that month, they planted a bomb in a van which exploded causing unnecessary casualties to many Iraqi civilians. The blast was blamed on the US, which was what The Seven wanted. The more screw-ups allegedly caused by United States forces, the more likely this war on Iraq would look like a mistake.

That's when the CIA had to intervene. Surveillance missions, such as the ones led by Harm, were started. Information was gathered and slowly but surely, they started long, agonizing lists. Lists of thousands of people associated with The Seven. To their dismay, many of it's members were former US military personnel, either retired or discharged. Other members consisted of former Al-Qaida members, fired MI-6 Agents and even KGB agents gone AWOL. And the list of members grew by the hundreds every day.

The only list they couldn't come up with were the original seven members who started it all. Those seven people managed to keep their identities secret and everyday the CIA wasted thousands of dollars trying to figure out who they were.

He shut his eyes suddenly understanding the need to get Sarah and NCIS to back off. The deeper they dug themselves into this mess, the harder it would be to get them out.

There was a tap on the passenger side window, then the door swung open and a woman hopped in. "Jesus, Clay! You've been sitting out here all this time with no heat on?"

It took him a moment, but he realized it was Beth O'Neill. He looked at her and mumbled, "They've never murdered their hostages before..."

Beth paused, recognizing the reason behind his odd behavior. He heard the news about Mark. She spied the gun in his hand and as a precaution, reached over and took it from him. He didn't resist. Once she secured the gun under the seat, she looked down at the floor and replied, "I know. I guess all 'peace wielding' terrorists groups find a reason to kill sooner or later."

Clay just nodded and tossed his folders back behind him. He turned the car on, just to start warming up. He could care less if he was freezing, but Beth looked cold. He rubbed his eyes and asked, "They took Harm, didn't they?"

"I believe so," Beth sighed, her voice quivering. "We lost Andy, then Mark. I don't know what I would do if we never find Harm. . ."

"Or worse," Clay grumbled. "If we _do_ find him. . ."

His last words hung in the air. Neither one of them liked the idea of finding Harm dead, but they couldn't rule that option out. A thought crossed his mind. "NCIS has no idea why Harm was taken, do they?"

She laughed at nothing in particular and asked, "You mean, do they know that Harm was on a covert Special Ops mission to spy on the most intricate terrorist network we've ever come across? Do they know that Hanson uncovered that his CO was selling this terrorist network military secrets?"

Clay slowly turned his head and stared at her. She shook her head no and finished in a grave voice, "No, they don't have a damn clue."

**March 26, 2004**

**Undisclosed Location**

He was curled up in a ball on a very hard cot. The room was dark and lonely. It was also very cold.

It was so very cold.

He coughed and saw his breath form a little cloud before disappearing. His teeth chattered and he hugged himself tighter. Why was this happening to him? He could swear there was a file located deep within Langley stating he was no longer a CIA operative. The only reason anyone would try to kill him or abduct him was because he worked for the CIA. They thought he knew some big secret. If only he could tell them they were wrong. Harm knew nothing.

He could swear he knew nothing.

At some point during his first night, a brute the size of Mt. Everest busted into his cell. The man had claimed to be a doctor, but his methods were questionable. No painkillers, no anesthesia. Just a pair of tweezers, tons of blood and Harm screaming his head off in anguish. The doctor yanked out the bullet that had been lodged in his leg for the past night. In no time, he was stitched up in a very poor fashion and tossed some new clothes.

He slowly moved, trying to get comfortable but his gunshot wound was excruciatingly painful. The bandages that had been wrapped around his leg were constricting. Wrapped over his white cotton pants just to help stop the bleeding. He cried out in torment grabbing his leg, knowing that he needed a real doctor who knew what stitching meant. He needed someone to hold him. He needed Mac.

He sighed. It only seemed fitting that after a bad ending to their dinner, that he would let her walk away again and be here. Shot, wounded and alone. He shut his eyes again, needing to forget about his night with Mac. He needed to concentrate on getting out of here. Where ever here was.

A bright light invaded the room suddenly, followed by his attackers' voice. "Harmon?"

The voice was the same as before and it still sent shivers down his spine. Once upon a time, that voice would give him strange tingles. He didn't know what to make of them back then, but now those strange tingles had changed to pangs of fear. He looked up and growled at her, "You shot me."

"And I'm very sorry I did that," she said derisively. "You gave me no choice."

Then he asked, "Why?"

"The Navy didn't pay me enough," came the response. "Ooo, it's a bit cold in here."

She stepped out of the shadows, her strong features making her more ruthless then ever before. At one point, Harm could remember thinking how she reminded him of some unknown evil. No matter what the circumstances, she would always make him feel apprehensive. When she made a pass at him, he could never tell if she were joking or serious. He could never figure out her true agenda. Now it seemed, a lot of things had changed since they last spoke.

"Who are you working for, Allison?" Harm rasped.

"So you do know my name," former Commander Allison Krennick laughed, her cackly voice screeched in his ears. "It's been so long, I thought you would forget."

Harm shivered, mostly because he was cold, and continued to hold a strong front. "Who are you working for?"

She tapped her finger against her cheek as if she were thinking, then answered, "Let's just say a lot can change in ten years."

Harm grimaced as she advanced towards him, leaned down next to the cot and gave him one those classic seductive smiles she used to always give him. She cooed, "You haven't changed one bit, though. Still handsome."

"And still unavailable," Harm spat at her. To this comment, she frowned and stood up.

"That kind of attitude will get you nowhere, Harm," she warned and began to storm out. She was going to leave him alone again. She couldn't do that. He needed answers.

"Allison," he called out weakly. He cringed when she stopped and gazed at him in a longing fashion. He quickly continued, "Why am I here? You said something about Marines. I'm in the Navy, unless you forgot."

She paused and took time to think it over. She smiled malignantly, "You weren't my first choice. Colonel Mackenzie is a Marine, unless you forgot."

"Mac?" Harm gasped, trying to sit up. Once he could secure himself, he stared at Krennick incredulously. "Why her?"

"Oh, Harm, it was a joke," Krennick laughed, then shrugged as if to say 'what the hell?'. She folded her hands and dictated, "Harm, six months ago you were employed by the CIA. You ran a Special Ops mission, just before your C-130 fiasco. Do you remember the members on your team? Maybe the name Mark Daniels will refresh your memory?"

Harm's eyes widened abruptly at Mark's name. That was one mission he would've loved to bury forever. He lost a good friend on that mission. Krennick stalked slowly back up to him and continued to speak, "You were flying them in. Four former Marines and one newly promoted agent jumped off and floated down to the earth."

Harm gulped. It had been a small mission according to CIA standards. Mostly surveillance on a known terrorist faction within Iraq.

"At this point, you were cleared to operate the Osprey, among the other planes you were cleared to fly. Your partner Beth O'Neill also came along for the ride. After dropping off your cargo, you managed to land your aircraft in the appropriate spot, waiting on your team to come back," she continued.

Man, she was good. She knew every detail and this scared him. How much did she really know about him? About his life? It was obvious she had been keeping tabs on him for quite some time and only choose to pick now to snag him. She was dancing around the real answers. She was teasing him.

She had stopped speaking, but she didn't need to say anymore. Harm could remember the rest of the mission very clearly.

Krennick stood there, basking in his sorrow. For a moment, she felt sorry for Harmon Rabb, Jr.. At one point in their lives, they were colleagues, co-workers, . . . potential lovers. Oh, who was she kidding? Harm didn't even know she existed and if he did, he purposely ignored her. She feel sorry for him? No. She had no obligation to him anymore. She was no longer in the Navy and in a few days he wouldn't be a Naval officer either. The CIA has misused Harm's abilities. She smiled wickedly to herself as she thought of the possibilities. . .

Snapping out of her dreams, her eyes narrowed at him and she listed slowly, "We have Daniels, Attewater, Colbert and Locke in our custody right now. Unfortunately, Watson got himself killed before we could get to him."

After she listed the names of the people on his team, he realized that Beth O'Neill had been left out. She was the only one left. He figured it wouldn't be too long before they tried to grab her too.

"I remember them," Harm answered her. "Except Corporal Brian Hanson was not on my team. Why him?"

"Oh, Hanson?" she smiled crookedly. "He was that boy who murdered his CO?"

Harm squinted his eyes, not sure how she knew all of this. "He was the suspect in our murder case, yes."

"Why do you think he killed Ricardo?" she asked him.

"We were in the middle of an investigation before you shot me," Harm answered her sharply. "What's your point, Krennick?"

"Ricardo was working for us," Krennick said in a menacing whisper. "Hanson discovered Ricardo's defection and in a blind rage killed him. Ricardo was one of our top agents. Naturally, we had to eliminate Hanson for his foolishness." She paced a few times in front of him and then stopped,"Does this answer your question as to who I'm working for?"

"It does," Harm responded solemnly. He looked at the floor, not wanting to see her anymore. He should've known something as simple as flying planes for the CIA would eventually scuttle his entire career and his life. Krennick tipped her head to the side, announced she would return later with medical supplies. Before she left the room, however, she put the final nail in the coffin.

"Just so you know, I lied about having Mark Daniels in custody," she said, her back to him. He slowly looked up at her retreating form when she spoke the next three words. "Mark is dead."

She finally left the room. The door shut with a deafening sound and the room was dark again.

Before he could stop them, a few tears escaped his eyes. His hand quickly swept his face to get rid of them, but once he wiped his face dry, more tears replaced them. His lip quivered some and he carefully laid back down on the cot, so he wouldn't disturb his wound. He curled back up into a little ball, wishing he could vanish. Just drift away to somewhere that wasn't here. He had no idea what was in store for him. He had no idea if he would ever make it home.

**March 27, 2004**

**Undisclosed Location**

For being a prisoner, he couldn't complain about the accommodations. They fed him decent food to keep up his strength. Allowed him bathroom breaks. They even gave him a new, firmer mattress to alleviate any stress on his back. Their actions confused him. In the back of his mind he knew they were not good people. Their acts of kindness were just a facade.

He limped while he followed Krennick down the dark corridors. This place was large-scale and confusing. So many doors. So many stairwells and hallways. His mind tried to make a mental map of the place but it was impossible. There was just too much to remember. Escape was highly unlikely.

His hands were cuffed behind him, but his legs were free of shackles. In fact, they were treating him in a very liberated manner. Only one bodyguard followed them. No guns. No knives. He stepped too hard on his wounded leg and had to pause for a break.

Krennick sucked her teeth in disgust and ordered he keep up the pace. It was the first act of pressure forced upon him. Despite how physically drained he was, she demanded he get up and follow her.

Finally, they reached their destination and Krennick pushed open double doors to reveal her work station. He paused and whistled to himself, suddenly inspired with dread. This place...this was not what he expected at all. The floors were black tile. Shiny, smooth and professional looking. The ceiling lights were modern in design with bright florescent lighting. The desks, chairs, and people all gave the impression of a high class law firm. It almost reminded him of the offices at Langley. . .except everything was much darker.

Krennick turned around and smiled at him, "Welcome to our headquarters, Harm. The one place your Agency has been trying to break into for the past 6 months."

He shot a surprised look at her and still asked the question why with his eyes. She ignored him and waved her arm to show off the place, "This is The Seven. We monitor world chaos, oppose war and develop new technologies that Thomas Edison would drool over."

Harm just looked around, spotting several different people, with various ethnic backgrounds. Most of the employees appeared to be Middle Eastern which led him to his conclusion they were back in Iraq. All of the people were busy, most likely plotting their next terrorist attack. He took a deep breath and asked, "Are we in Iraq?"

"No, we're not in that wasteland," Krennick shuddered and added, "This is merely a branch of The Seven. Our branch in Iraq is just a smaller part of the entire organization." She turned to him and told him with mock sympathy, "Your friend Andy Watson was a wasted life. While the CIA had you traversing across the Iraqi deserts for us, all you had to do was stay close to home."

She produced a key and held it up. She smiled seductively at him and asked, "Can I trust you to keep your hands to yourself, Harmon?"

Harm forced a sheepish smile and answered, "I'll be good."

"Good," she cooed and unlocked the cuffs from around his wrists. He rubbed the chafed skin and wondered why he was being given special treatment here. These people couldn't be trusted. They were enemies to the United States and the free world. At least, that was the impression he got from the intelligence gathered on The Seven.

Krennick continued the tour and he followed. She tried to explain that they're organization was about equal rights for all. Opposing war and protecting peace. While Harm disagreed with her, he kept silent. She went on to show that they had super computers, state of the art gadgets and gizmos. He had seen similar hardware at the CIA, but some of this stuff didn't even compare. He was pained to admit it, but it was becoming apparent The Seven had better weapons and equipment than the United States of America. He prayed he was wrong.

They walked into an office and he was instructed to sit down. She took a seat behind the mahogany desk and typed a few keys on the computer. He looked around him and noticed they were alone. What was going on? Were they meeting someone? His eyes scanned the room once more, then he spotted a name etched on the front of the desk. It was now he realized the truth about Allison Krennick.

He looked up at her and said out loud, "You aren't working for them...you _are_ them!"

She released a short laugh and nodded, "Yes, Harm. I am one of the original Seven. I head operations here in Chicago."

Harm sputtered his next response in shock and in anger, "You're a murderer! You killed Mark!"

"No!" she slammed her fist down on the desk forcefully. Harm jumped back, almost afraid of the woman sitting in front of him. She calmed herself and stated plainly, "I am not a murderer. _We_ are not murderers. We have never killed anyone, Harm. Our protests are non-violent."

"Non-violent until a car bomb explodes and kills innocent people," Harm glared at her. "You think your hands are clean just because you didn't pull the trigger?"

At this question, Krennick finally gave him a knowing grin. She folded her hands and explained, "We are a peaceful faction until we are _threatened_. Once the integrity of this organization is threatened, then we must act. I mean, once the United States is threatened, you place blame on a random tyrant and go after him."

"If this is how you view the war, then you're wrong," Harm said darkly.

"Well, why don't you ask your fellow citizens?" she proposed. "Looking at current polls of this election, the country seems divided. Torn in two." She leaned forward and added, "We're just adding support to the side that is _right_."

Harm decided to stop arguing with her. His views on the war had no bearing here and neither did hers. Krennick and her fellow comrades had already made up their minds. It didn't matter whether they thought the war on Iraq was right or wrong...they just needed a good reason to blow something up. He tried to keep his anger in check. He spoke with clenched teeth, "So, did you kidnap me and my other colleagues because you felt _threatened_?"

"See? You're catching on very quickly!" she mocked him and leaned back in her chair. "Yes, that's why you're here. We wanted to make sure the information you gathered wouldn't stop our efforts to improve society as a whole."

"I'm sure you'll remember that my team had no time to gather any intelligence," Harm pointed out. "So, really, Krennick. Tell me why we're here."

"Okay, you got me," she threw her hands up in defeat. She leaned forward and forced eye contact with him. "The truth is Harm, we're recruiting. Just like you, our organization has suffered casualties and we need proper replacements. We want you to join. . .and that's not a request."

Harm's jaw dropped slightly, as she winked in his direction...

To be continued...


	6. Bending the Rules

Disclaimer: not mine

Author's Note: Sorry it took so long for me to update. My computer was sick and I needed to take care of it. It's all better now. :) I will give a short recap of important stuff from previous chapters to refresh your memory. Also, thanks for the feedback. Keep it coming. :)

To Teyla Sheppard: Krennick _is_ Krennick. Harm was just pointing out that Krennick was actually one of the people in charge as opposed to just being an employee. Make sense? I hope that cleared that up. I think you've also asked about the Alias team several times. They will show up soon, I promise. ;)

**The Seven**

by e-dog

**Previously: **

(from Chapter One)

"You were a fine agent, Harm," Mark complimented.

"Obviously not good enough," Harm joked mildly and shut the cardboard box carrying his belongings. "If you would excuse me, I have a debriefing to attend. . . "

"Wait, Harm," Mark stopped him. The look on the agent's face unsettled Harm. Like there was trouble. "I know this experience wasn't easy for you. I just want you to remember one thing."

"What's that?" Harm asked, furrowing his brow in confusion. Mark seemed very worried.

"Watch your back and keep your loved ones close," Mark told him sternly. "That mission where Andy died may come back to haunt you."

(from Chapter Four)

Kate stepped outside to meet Tony's concerned stare. "What Tony?"

"I was talking to Gibbs," he replied. "They found the body of a former Marine on the side of a dirt road."

He seemed to be pausing for dramatic effect and Kate looked at him to continue, "His name is Mark Daniels. He joined the Marines at the age of 24, stayed in the Corps for 10 years. He was offered a job working for the CIA after he was discharged."

"What does this have to do with Hanson or Rabb?" Kate asked, still not understanding the point.

"Well, I was talking to Colonel Mackenzie about it," Tony continued. He motioned his head in Mac's direction. She was waiting by her car. "When I said CIA, she told me that Rabb was also employed for the CIA back in September."

Chapter Six

"Bending the Rules"

**March 27, 2004**

**NCIS Headquarters**

It was early the next morning. Mac had been waiting patiently to get the day started, but her patience was wearing thin. After her verbal warning to Kate, the NCIS agent kept her distance from the fiery Marine. Tony on the other hand was relentless with his come hither stares. Mac couldn't understand how Kate put up with him every day. Finally, a young woman strolled in, carrying many paper bags. Her jet black hair was in pigtails and she wore various chains hanging off her clothes. Her make-up and clothing were black as well and the white lab coat somehow made the outfit come together in a weird way. She held up the bags triumphantly and exclaimed, "Bow down and worship me, for I have brought sustenance!"

"You rock, Abby," Kate gushed, taking one of the bags and rummaging through it for her breakfast.

When all was said and done, and Mac was introduced to her, Forensics Specialist Abby Scuito had provided everyone with a cup of coffee. . .except for Tony. Well, he was going to get a cup, but Abby realized she didn't get one for Mac. After thinking it over and some prodding by Kate, Abby finally gave Tony's cup of coffee to Mac. While Tony sulked, Mac tried to give it back. Gibbs appeared suddenly, interceded and snatched the cup from Tony's hand.

He gave her a rare, comforting smile and said, "This is your cup, Colonel. You are the guest."

Gibbs turned to the younger agent and said boldly, "You don't mind, do you Dinozzo?"

Tony pouted, but replied, "No, I don't."

"Are you sure?" Mac asked, still trying to be polite.

"Is it Hazel Nut Creme?" he asked, his eyes widening in anticipation. Gibbs shot daggers with his eyes at him and he backed away. "Yeah, I'm sure. You can have it."

It wasn't that she didn't appreciate the coffee, but she still felt bad Tony missed out. Then again, Tony had been checking out her six and hitting on her ever since she arrived. At that realization, she smiled brightly at Tony and said, "Thanks!"

She lifted the cup to her lips and took a long satisfying sip and he watched with sad, puppy dog eyes.

That was half an hour ago, when things weren't so gloomy. When she was allowed to forget that Harm was missing for at least a little while. Then, just like that, Gibbs instructed that she follow him. His voice demanded that his orders were abided by and she wasted no time in complying. It was time to get to work.

She looked around the morgue. The walls were white, the room was brightly lit with fluorescent lighting, and everything was made of metal. One wall held the light tables for viewing x-rays and such. A desk was opposite them surrounded by metal cabinets. The last wall lined the freezers that held the corpses. It was all so very modern and slightly overwhelming. Mac had never been this close to so many. . .things dealing with morgues before. Gibbs and the doctor had been talking and for the most part they had been background noise. She finally took this time to tune in and catch up.

"I think the cause of death is pretty obvious," Dr. Donald "Ducky" Mallard announced as he pointed at the x-rays of Mark Daniels' skull. "Gunshot to the head. He passed instantaneously."

"Anything else you can tell us, Duck?" Gibbs asked.

They followed him over to the slab and he lifted Daniels' arm. "There are abrasions and bruises on his arms and chest. In addition to the bruises, there are round, burn marks strategically placed on his stomach and arms."

"Any idea what caused the burns?" Gibbs asked, obviously in charge of this questioning. Well, not that she cared he was asking the questions. It was hard enough to keep her stomach from churning, let alone get her brain to formulate questions.

"Well, judging by the size and shape, they remind me of small electrodes," Ducky said gravely. "My best guess is shock therapy."

Gibbs took that news in stride, while she grimaced.

Mac was standing next to Gibbs, listening to Ducky. She didn't really ask to be down here in the first place, but since she was assisting, Gibbs seemed obligated to let her participate in every part of their investigative procedures. Including seeing the body. She had been doing her best not to look at the form on the bright, metal slab. Her mind couldn't help but picture Harm laying there and that was the last thing she wanted to think.

She had been here all day yesterday, after that Recreate the Scene nonsense. While it yielded some results, they didn't make as much progress with the missing persons database as they had hoped. They had narrowed the list of missing Marines, currently serving and retired, to about 20. So far, none of them had anything in common with each other, Daniels or Harm. When Tony reported their minuscule findings to Gibbs, he was less than impressed. After he sent her home to sleep, she came back the next morning almost immediately.

Almost.

She had to go back to JAG first and get permission from the Admiral to extend her participation in the case. He expressed his concern for her well-being, but she convincingly dismissed any idea that she wasn't stable or unable to handle this new assignment. He begrudgingly gave it to her, allowing this to be considered a TAD assignment.

Gibbs took a moment to glance at her and asked, "You doing okay, Colonel?"

She paused for a second, noticing the amusement in his eyes. While his facial features showed complete seriousness, his eyes said it all. He was finding entertainment in her sickly expression. Now more determined to suck it up and take this, she replied, "Agent Gibbs, viewing this body will not scare me away. You asked me to be here. I want to find the people who took Commander Rabb."

"Good." He turned away from her, leaving her slightly puzzled. Did he want her to leave or not? His attitude towards had been indifferent for the most part. He seemed to finally concede she was innocent of any wrongdoing, but he was pushing her limits. Seeing how far she would go to find Harm.

Gibbs heard his beeper go off and he grabbed it. She watched him squint his eyes as if he was having trouble reading it. After he pressed a few buttons, he looked at her and reported, "I have to run upstairs for a moment. I'll be back."

Before she could object and follow him, he was gone.

"Colonel? You ever experience deja vu?"

Mac gave her attention to the older man, who was busy covering up Daniels' body with a blanket. Ducky pulled the blanket all the way up, but didn't cover his head. He just stood there, viewing Daniels' face with the upmost scrutiny. She had to admit, she was fascinated how involved Ducky was with his work. She could only imagine his attention to detail was the one of the things that kept him sane down here.

She finally shook her head no to his question and he smiled, "Well, some people believe it's all in your mental imagery. An illusion."

"You don't think it is?" she asked, wondering where Ducky was going with this.

"Well, deja vu is simply a previous memory emerging from a past life," Ducky rambled on and stood next to Daniels' body. He leaned down and stared thoughtfully and engagingly at Daniels. "Wouldn't it be interesting if we could simply experience deja vu through Agent Daniels' eyes? Find out what really happened to him?"

"Uh...I suppose," Mac muttered, watching him in awe. Did he do this all the time?

"Colonel!" Gibbs barked from the doorway, as he walked in. "We've got company. . ."

When she turned towards him, she saw he was being followed by two other gentlemen. She sighed, knowing where they were from instantly. Dark coats. Dark suits. Polished shoes and stern faces. Definitely the calvary from Langley here to stop their investigation. If there was any question as to whether the CIA cared about Daniels death, this answered it.

"Here he is, gentlemen," Gibbs directed them to the slab. "His record showed no immediate family and that he was a former Marine. We had no idea he was CIA, or we would've called you sooner."

"Bullshit," one of the agents muttered.

Mac piped up with a bit of sarcasm, "If we had access to your records, we would've known who Daniels was working for."

The agent became quiet, but also looked at her as if to say, What the hell is she doing here? Gibbs took this as his cue to introduce everyone, "Agent Harper, Agent Wynn, this is Colonel Mackenzie. Our cases sort of collided recently and she's assisting."

"Cases?" Harper asked, obviously not liking the idea of having so many people involved.

"A murder case," Gibbs clarified. "Their suspect went missing, as well as her partner. We highly doubt it's a coincidence."

"We're here to assure you that it is a coincidence, Agent Gibbs," Harper replied, his voice somewhat monotone. It was obvious he was lying. "Hanson, Rabb, and Daniels have nothing in common. We want the body."

"Hanson? Rabb?" Mac asked, then gave Gibbs a quick knowing glance. "We never told you their names."

Harper smiled wryly and coughed to clear his throat. "We want the body."

"The body stays here," Gibbs ordered sternly. "He's a Marine and we will find the people who killed him."

"Ex-Marine, Gibbs," Wynn finally joined the conversation. "I know you people like to protect your own, but he's no longer your concern. We will conduct a full investigation into his death and we will find the people who put him on that slab."

Mac watched the exchange unfold before her. Gibbs wasn't backing down and neither were the dark suits. Gibbs had to know he wasn't going to win, right? It was then Gibbs snapped his fingers and in came Tony holding a file. Gibbs took the papers and smiled, "The body stays here because Daniels was connected to a cold case."

"Let me see that," Harper snapped and snatched the folder from him. His expression said it all, once his eyes scanned the papers. He glared at Gibbs and warned, "You do realize this won't hold up. I mean, for crying out loud, Gibbs! The man is dead!"

"Just because he's dead doesn't mean he can't tell us anything," Gibbs smiled.

Harper's nostrils flared in frustration as he promised, "We will come back and demand his release."

"Yeah, but getting together all that paperwork will take you at least a day," Gibbs shrugged. "Now if you will excuse us, we have a job to do."

Gibbs motioned for both Tony and Mac to follow him out. She did as she was told, wondering how in the world NCIS managed to pull that rabbit out of the magic hat. They boarded the elevator and her mind just couldn't come up with a rational answer. She could only come up with an irrational answer.

"He wasn't connected to that case, was he Gibbs?" she asked.

"Not directly," Gibbs answered truthfully. "His name was mentioned in a report connected to the case."

"It's amazing what you can do with a scanner, old documents and word processing programs," Tony said quietly, with a grin spreading across his face. His voice seemed playful, but did she sense some seriousness in there as well?

"You. . .?" Mac mumbled, while the elevator doors opened, signaling the end of the ride. They stepped off and she was stopped by Gibbs.

"You will learn quicky we don't appreciate being stepped on," Gibbs told her. He wasn't smiling, but he didn't look overly serious either. His eyes told a different story. They were like lasers, cutting through her as he spoke. He was trying to intimidate her again. Make her challenge him.

"Agent Gibbs," Mac met his strong gaze head on and unwaveringly. "Agent Dinozzo just implied tampering with official documents! You can't tell me you condone that kind of behavior. . ."

Gibbs didn't move and he didn't stutter. His next response was casual and her concerns waved off. "Agent Dinozzo was just joking about altering the papers. He's really bad with jokes."

"I see," Mac said, finding those were the only words she could come up with. "Just joking?"

Gibbs started to walk away from her as he replied, "We bend the rules, Colonel. We never break them."

Mac watched him walk away. Despite his weak reassurances, she just wasn't sure he was telling the truth. She had heard stories about Gibbs' investigative procedures. She had been told what a hardass he could be. He knew what buttons to push and how hard to push them. She could only help but wonder, what would happen if he pushed too hard.

She finally entered their workspace. Tony was at his desk, feet propped up and eyes closed. Maybe trying to get in a quick nap. Kate, on the other hand, was hard at work. Mac decided teaming up with Kate was the best option, "Agent Todd."

"Colonel," Kate smiled warmly at her and motioned at the empty chair. She asked timidly, "Want to help?"

Mac nodded yes and sat down. While Kate was getting together all the print outs of missing persons she had so far, a cell phone rang shrilly. Gibbs answered it, said a few words and hung up. "We've got another one."

Mac and Kate exchanged quick glances of worry. Another body? The first thought that ran through Mac's head was, _Please don't let it be Harm_. . . Before Mac could rise from her seat, Kate gently grabbed her arm and said, "Have faith, Colonel."

**March 27, 2004**

**Parking Garage**

**Washington D.C.**

"Tony, Kate. Pictures," Gibbs ordered, while Mac stayed behind him. The two agents circled the crime scene. Soon flashes started going off. The clicking sound of the shutters echoed loudly, the flashes were nearly blinding. She had been to crime scenes before, but now things were different. Seeing a body in a morgue or seeing one here in a public place was completely different from a battlefield. You expect casualties in war. But here. . .in a parking garage adjacent to a bank? Where people with normal lives and families have walked through everyday? It sickened her.

Ducky was next to the body. Gibbs kneeled down next to Ducky and asked, "Time of death?"

Ducky glanced up at Gibbs as if to say, "You've got to be kidding." Gibbs continued to put on his no nonsense face. The older man sighed and replied, "My best guess is that he's been dead for about 24 hours. But that's only a guess, Jethro."

He was wearing his Marine greens, the pants anyway. The body had been stripped of a shirt and socks. A bullet hole in his forehead, similar to Mark Daniels wound. Circular burn marks on the chest suggested the placement of electrodes and Ducky pointed out abrasions on the chest and arms. There was no doubt they were dealing with the same people. Mac stayed back, mostly because Gibbs ordered her too. This was the second body she had seen in less than two hours. She watched as it seemed Gibbs had found something sticking out of Corporal Brian Hanson's pants pocket.

She spoke, just to speak. "I guess you can keep Daniels after all. It's obvious he's connected to Hanson's murder as well."

"Yes, I suppose you're right, Colonel," Gibbs agreed and walked back up to her. He was holding a piece of paper in some tweezers. "Do you see what it says?"

She read the words and repeated, "Compliments of The Seven? What does that mean?"

"I don't know, but we're going to find out," he answered her, dropping the piece of paper in an evidence bag. He labeled it and handed it to her. "Take this to Abby. Get her to analyze it."

"It's pretty bold of them to leave a note behind," Tony commented, walking up to them. "Especially with their name typed clear as day, for everyone to read."

"It's not bold, Tony. It means they are mocking us," Gibbs told them, his eyes narrowing in frustration. "Like they know we'll never find them."

**March 27, 2004**

**Mac's Apartment**

**Georgetown**

The day had been long and exhausting. Abby had analyzed the piece of paper, but it revealed nothing. No finger prints, no way to trace it's origins. The paper itself was something you could find in any printer or copying machine. It could've been from anywhere. Since the note was a dead end, next came the missing persons list.

She and Kate sifted through all the missing persons records, looking for anything that would connect them to Harm, Hanson or Daniels. They managed to make three matches. All former Marines by the names of Chris Locke, Richard Attewater and Walter Colbert. Locke went missing about four weeks ago. Attewater and Colbert went missing two weeks ago on the same day. Locke and Daniels trained together and were both discharged at the same time. Thanks to some computer hacking by Agent Timothy McGee, he found that all of them were later employed by the CIA. Naturally, McGee wasn't _that _good. Their employment records was all the CIA database would reveal, before kicking him out of the network.

There was nothing indicating any of these men worked together and/or even knew each other. The only definitive match was Locke and Daniels. Eventually, Tony had brought up a good point. "Maybe this CIA angle is a dead end. We still don't have any proof their CIA backgrounds have anything to do with it."

Then Kate had to kindly remind him, "But it's the only thing all of them have in common. And let's not forget, Daniels and Hanson share similar abrasions and burn marks."

Despite those obvious connections, they were still at a stand still. They needed to learn more about their CIA backgrounds to have a chance and it was painfully clear the CIA would not give that to them.

Mac entered her apartment, dropped her purse on the couch and peeled off her jacket. She took care in folding it neatly and draping it over the arm of one her chairs. A quick trip to the bathroom allowed her to splash water on her face, causing a little bit of make up to run, but she didn't really care. She dried her face and hands and found herself back in the family room, kicking off her shoes and resting her eyes.

Everything so far was based on assumptions and circumstance. "The Seven" were obviously the people responsible, but there was very little on them. A few protests here or there, but for the most part, they were ghosts. It was clear they needed to work with what they knew. They had Harm's military records and they had Hanson's. Mac literally knew everything about Harm's military career, so maybe they should focus on Hanson. Go back over everything they knew about him. However, she was drained and needed to at least sleep for 20 minutes before she dived into more paperwork.

Before sleep could take her, there was a knock on her door.

She slowly rose up and tip toed in her stocking feet to the door. Her hand came to rest on her firearm as she peeked through the peephole. Relief and a little surprise washed through her. It was only him. She put her firearm back and opened the door slightly. "Hey."

Clay stood there, dressed impeccably. Judging by his looks, she could tell he hadn't had a drop of liquor today. This meant he was here on business. He held a briefcase and wore a solemn expression, "I hear NCIS is having a little trouble yielding results."

Mac chuckled in amusement, "And what? You've come by to lend some support?"

"They don't know I'm here, Sarah," Clay gave her a weak smile. "Harm was my friend too, you know."

She studied him for a moment, mildly puzzled. She opened the door wider and he slipped in. She shut the door and folded her arms, waiting to learn why he was really here. He opened his briefcase and asked, "So, uh, do I at least get a hug?"

She squinched her eyes in annoyance and he sighed, "I guess not."

"Make it quick, Clay," she ordered. "I've had a long day."

"Right," he smiled weakly. He sifted through his things, looking for the right folder. "There comes a time when protocol has to be breached."

"You breach protocol? That's rich," Mac chuckled.

He knew she was being sarcastic. Since when did he ever do anything by-the-book? He found the file he was looking for. He knew his initial reason for seeing her had been to help, but he couldn't wait to see if this would grant better results. He hated to think of this as a peace offering, but what else could it be? He lifted up the file from his briefcase, "This is Harm's file."

She stepped back in surprise and repeated, "Harm's file?"

He held it up for her to take, but she looked at it as if it would burn her. He insisted, "Take it, Sarah. I went through a lot of trouble to get this for you. I don't have much time."

"Why?" she asked, still refusing to take it. She knew, once she touched it, there was no turning back. Getting caught with this information would ruin her career. Knowing what Harm really did as an agent would probably send her stomach into knots as well.

He set the file on the coffee table and walked past her to the door. "Read it, then burn it. Use the information as you see fit. I was never here."

She stared at the file in anticipation and in reluctance. Then she turned to face him. He surprised her again when he leaned in for a quick kiss goodbye. It was quick because she was pretty much non-responsive. He pulled back, looking rather troubled. It was as if he needed to say something. She asked timidly, "What was that for?"

"I'm going on another mission. . .long term," he replied just as shakily. "I should kiss the woman I love before I go."

"Oh, so you drop off Harm's file to make nice-nice and then announce you're leaving again?" she asked, her voice rising with every word. He put a finger to her lips to silence her and just smiled. For whatever reason, that quieted her. He left on that awkward note and shut the door behind him. It took her a moment to get herself in gear and she opened her door again and called his name, "Clay? I. . ."

The hallway was empty. He was already gone. She released a sigh and shut the door. It took her a while to turn around, knowing what was going to greet her eyes when she did. Harm's CIA file was in her possession. The information therein could break this case wide open. She finally turned around, picked up the file and shoved it in her desk drawer. Her heart and mind were torn between doing the right thing and doing the _right_ thing.

She would eat first. That's what she would do. Eat, than read it. Harm never talked about the CIA when he came back and she was sure there was a reason why. That reason was in that file. No matter how slowly she chewed her food, it seemed she was done eating in no time. Her desk lamp on, the file in front of her. She couldn't believe this. Just this morning she was accusing Gibbs of breaking the rules. Now she was definitely doing something more than "bending" the rules.

Her hand rested on the cover sheet and she turned it over. She began her journey into a part of Harm's life she never got to know.

To be continued. . .


	7. The Promise

Disclaimer: not mine

Author's Note: I guess this warrents a tissue warning. So, you have been warned. Also, kinda short chapter compared to my others. Sorry about that. Next chapter will be longer. Thanks for all the kind reviews. :) (And special thanks to my beta reader! 300 points for you!)

**The Seven**

by e-dog

Chapter Seven

"The Promise"

**March 28, 2004**

**Mac's Apartment**

**Georgetown**

It was bad enough she was falling for a man who worked for the Agency. Dating a military man was demanding, but dating a CIA agent was a whole other story. There were the secrets that drove her mad. The way he could assure her that he was truly sorry whenever he screwed up. Those CIA agents. They were great actors. Very convincing indeed.

Their first kiss had been spontaneous and at the time she chalked it up to feeling sorry for him. Her mind rationalized that he might not make it, so it was merely a kiss goodbye. Right on cue, Harm showed up just in time to see the exchange. His expression was less than impressed with her behavior.

When they arrived back home in the States, they discovered that Clay was healing up quite nicely. Her visit to the hospital did nothing but prove she was indeed attracted to him in some bizarre way. That kiss meant more to him then she ever knew. Maybe it meant more to her as well.

Harm had been there with her, when she visited Clay. He probably thought she didn't notice him leave, but she did. Their childish giggles and inside jokes were probably too much for him to tolerate. She didn't mean to put Harm in that position. She didn't mean to have those kinds of feelings for their mutual friend. It just happened. That was all. It just happened.

Yes, it was bad enough she had fallen for Clayton Webb; a man working for the CIA. It was even worse when she made a second to visit to the hospital to find that Harm and Agent Catherine Gale had beat her there. Both Catherine and Clay were congratulating Harm on his new job. He was going to be a CIA pilot. Now the man she had been in love with for the past eight years was working for the CIA as well. Two men plus two secrets lives equals ten times the worry for their safety.

Why did she leave 17 messages on Harm's phone? She was worried. She wanted to at least hear him say "Hello", so she would know he was alive and well. Her relief was gigantic when Harm was fired. Despite her denials to Lt. Bud Roberts' prying on whether or not she missed Harm, in truth, she needed Harm back at the office. With all that had happened in Paraguay, she needed someone to talk to.

She knew Harm wouldn't come back to JAG on his own, so Bud, Coates and herself literally begged Admiral AJ Chegwidden to come down off his high horse and forgive him.

After much coaxing, both AJ and Harm relented and allowed for his return. She thought having him back would help, but boy, was she wrong. They tried to get along, but mostly fought with each other. They were ignoring things that had happened in Paraguay and finding other reasons to be mad with each other. She had no choice but to go to Clay. Harm wasn't up for listening or talking.

Seeking comfort in Clay led to more serious, more intimate gatherings. While it felt good to have someone there, the relationship was also strained. Clay was keeping secrets from her and thought that was just alright. He would apologize, buy her something expensive and they would kiss and make up. It was okay at first, but she could only keep up this destructive pattern of behavior for so long.

Not to mention, he was consuming alcohol more and more. He knew she didn't approve of it, but he continued to drink anyway. That was why everything between them now was so edgy and uncertain. That was why he thought bringing over Harm's file would win her over.

It was no secret to Clay that she cared for Harm.

Mac knew he meant well, but Clay was a spook. He was going to do his best to find Harm, but he was also going to try and manipulate the situation in order to keep her around. In other words, if he saved Harm, then she would forgive him. Flipping through the pages of Harm's file, she couldn't help but be slightly amused. Clayton Webb was a desperate man. Too desperate to realize she was just going to _use him_ in order to find Harm. Not the other way around.

Mac had been up all night reading the file Clay had dropped on her coffee table. She thought maybe she dozed off for a few minutes, but she wasn't sure. She never realized this before, but Harm had done some amazing things in his short time at the Agency. His first assignment sent him to Guam. The mission was originally meant to drop off a car so it could be switched. Unfortunately, the agents on the ground were killed. Harm and his new partner, Beth had to go back and switch the cars themselves. The details of the case fascinated her. In the end, Harm disarmed a bomb with forty seconds left on the timer saving many lives including his own.

With every page, she learned more and more about what he had faced. It scared her how dangerous it had all been. No wonder the tension between them had been sky high! Not only did Paraguay screw with both of their heads, Harm now had the added complications of knowing the inner workings of the CIA! He even lost a colleague by the name of Andy Watson along the way. Clay had managed to include some of the more intimate details of Harm's time there and that included his psych evaluation after losing Andy. The session was on a small tape. Pulling out her tape player, she inserted it and let it play. Harm's voice came across loud and clear:

"_He didn't deserve to die. He was a damn good pilot. He belonged in the air, but no one could convince him not to take the new position. He wanted to run ground operations. I. . .I don't know how you people can just move on like Andy was nothing." _

"_No one here is saying that, Harm," _another voice pointed out. It must have been the psychiatrist. _"Everyone will miss Andy." _

"_Don't say that. Don't you dare say that to me. No one will miss Andy like I will." _There was an awkward pause before Harm abruptly finished up,_"Are we through? Do you think I'm okay to go back out in the field?" _

"_You're reacting like any normal human being would, Harm. The grieving process takes time, but I don't think it'll hinder your ability to do your job. I'm clearing you. You can fly as soon as your next mission." _

"_Thank you." _

The tape ended there. She leaned back pondering what she just heard. All this time, she thought maybe Harm just couldn't understand the ordeal she had gone through in Paraguay. She was wrong. Harm understood, but being who he was, he sucked it up and locked the memories away. He pushed people out of his life and sought comfort in someone who was safe. That person was Mattie. Mac didn't know the young girl very well, but she could only imagine Harm felt comfortable around her. He needed her to keep going everyday.

Mac yawned. The time was approaching five in the morning and she had read most of the file three times. She listened to the tape twice.

She shut the folder and leaned back in her chair. There were other names in that file. People Harm had worked with. Mark Daniels. Chris Locke. Richard Attewater. Walter Colbert. Mark was in a freezer at the NCIS morgue. The rest were on the missing persons list. Even though Hanson's name wasn't mentioned, they finally had a definitive lead.

A lead Mac had to burn in her fireplace before she arrived at NCIS. She had a feeling Gibbs would now question her methods, wonder where she got the information. Furthermore, he would like a copy of this to show to his superiors. To have proof just in case they were questioned. Unfortunately, he wouldn't be able to rely on a piece of paper. Her word would be all he could rely on.

Suddenly fearing talking to Gibbs in person, she grabbed her phone. She located a piece of paper with a number written on it and dialed it on her cell phone.

It rang for a long time before a groggy female voice answered in a threatening tone, "Tony. . .if you don't stop prank calling me at 5 in the morning, I will. . ."

"It's Mac," she cut Kate off before she went any further. Mac grinned in amusement. Kate and Tony were the epitome of brother/sister arguments and pranks. During their combing of the missing persons files, those two were relentless in giving each other a hard time. They made the stressful day a little easier to get through.

"Mac!" Kate's voice suddenly perked up. She sounded embarrassed, "Sorry, Tony has developed this annoying habit of. . . well, never mind. What's up?"

"It's about. . .," Mac began, not sure how to say what needed to be said. ". . .my boyfriend."

The moment she said it, she knew that was the wrong way to approach. She could hear Kate's silence on the other end and she could understand why the NCIS agent would be silent. She had just tore into Kate a couple of days ago for prying into her life and forcing her into that exercise. Now she was suddenly mentioning her boyfriend? She had to amend this quickly, "He's in the CIA."

"Oh," Kate finally responded. "Does this have to do with the case, then?"

"Yeah," Mac sighed. "Sorry, I mean, he's not really my boyfriend. I just know him and he stopped by yesterday. . . You offered me your number and I didn't know who else to call."

"Why did he stop by?" Kate asked, not sure whether this conversation had to do with Mac's pseudo boyfriend or the case. It could be both. Either way, she was going to try and let Mac dictate how this conversation went. She didn't want to overstep any boundaries Mac didn't want crossed.

"He wanted to drop off something, to kinda make up for being an asshole," Mac replied, still dancing around the real reason she called. This was so unlike her. To open up like this to anyone. But. . .she had to admit it was nice to talk about Clay to another woman. Before meeting Kate, she really didn't have any girlfriends to talk to about "girly stuff".

"Yeah, most men think they can fix all problems with a diamond ring," Kate chuckled, sounding more awake then before.

"Yeah, I guess," Mac said, giving a generic response. Okay, this had gone on long enough. Kate wasn't her closet friend and she didn't need to know everything. Mac changed course suddenly and finished, "Anyway, he's not really the point. . ."

"What is?" Kate asked, still sounding very cautious.

"He dropped off something," Mac explained. "Something I have to burn. Something I can't let anyone see, but I can use the information the way I see fit."

Kate frowned at how cryptic Mac was being. It was confusing her. It sounded like the Colonel had taken a page out of Gibbs's playbook and was "bending" the rules. Kate asked, "What did it say?"

"That. . .," Mac began, but her apartment phone cut her off. She grimaced slightly and quickly said, "I'm sorry, Kate. My other line is ringing. I'll call back."

Before Kate could say anything, she hung up her cell phone and made a quick sprint to the phone in the kitchen. She felt kind of guilty for leaving Kate hanging like that, but her phone ringing saved her from going any further. She was just going to have to suck it up, burn the file and walk into NCIS like it was a normal day.

"Hello?" she answered.

"Mac?" croaked his voice on the other end.

"Harm!" she gasped and used the kitchen counter for support. It took her a moment to catch her breath, but she finally blurted out, "Where are you?"

"I can't say," he replied. His voice sounded so torn and helpless. "They allowed me one phone call, one chance. I knew you would be home at 5 in the morning."

"They? Who's they?" she asked, very confused by his tone.

"I only have a few minutes, Mac. Please, just listen to me very carefully," he told her, his voice taking on a tone of urgency. He could hear her fall silent although he knew it was killing her not to speak. He said softly, "You sound so beautiful."

She couldn't help but feel her cheeks flush. How could she sound beautiful? Her voice was frantic! Furthermore, why was he talking to her in this way? She collected herself and almost ordered, "Harm. Tell me you're okay. Something."

"Every day of the week that passes by, I realize how stupid I've been," he continued.

She squinted her eyes in confusion. Wait. Listen to him carefully, he said. He was trying to tell her something! In between all his sweet talk, was a message somewhere. She quicky found a pen and wrote down what she could remember of the conversation so far. Then she asked, "Stupid? Stupid how?"

"It doesn't matter," he sighed. "Listen, I want you to promise."

"Promise what?" she asked.

"Every time I say no, they kill someone," he said, almost sounding like he was whimpering. "Just promise!"

"I promise!" Mac immediately said, even though she hated not knowing what she was promising. He asked her one more time and she repeated, "Harm, I promise."

"Good. You just promised to stop investigating my disappearance," he told her with a seriousness she had never known from him. "Stop investigating."

"Harm, you know I won't do that," she sputtered.

"You promised!" he reminded her. "Please. Stop investigating."

Who was she talking to? This couldn't be Harm, right? This was a mistake.

Then he spoke again, "Please, Mac."

His voice was soft and gentle that time. He finally sounded like himself and then she knew it had to be him. She could feel the tears welling up in her eyes. This wasn't happening. Not now. Why now? She sank to the floor, dropping her pen and paper. She tried to keep the tears under control, but she couldn't. In between her whimpering she repeated, "I promise, Harm. I'll stop."

"Mac, don't cry," he cooed. "I'm alright. I promise I'm alright."

"Okay," she sniffed, quickly getting the tears back under her control. She was a Marine. She could handle this.

"Mac, they're making me say goodbye," he said, his voice strained.

"Don't hang up, Harm," she begged him, the tears fighting to come back. Yes, she was a Marine, but she was also human.

"I have to, Mac."

"Don't hang up!"

"Mac," he said, then paused. He took a deep breath and finished, "I love you."

She began to crumble at those words. First relief, then panic, then fear. Did he just say that he loved her? He said it either because he really meant it or because maybe he thought he wouldn't have another chance to say so. Maybe it was both. He called her name again, to make sure she was still there. She blinked her eyes again, to get rid of the tears.

"I love you too."

The dial tone filled her ears after the words left her lips. She dropped the phone and listened to it hit the tile floor. He was gone now, right? Harm was gone? He gushed at how beautiful she sounded, that he was stupid. He said goodbye and told her he loved her. He was allowed one phone call, one chance to reach her. All of his words were planned, they had to be. Maybe saying he loved her was some cryptic way of telling her where he was.

She closed her eyes, replaying the conversation in her head. No. He meant it. He wasn't trying to be secretive or cryptic. He meant it. He was truly telling her to back off the case and was truly saying goodbye. She could tell by the sound of his voice. She could tell because deep down she could _feel_ that he was gone.

She slowly rose to her feet and lumbered her way over to her couch. The fact that she had been up all night was finally catching up to her. She was exhausted. Her heart was heavy with grief. The bomb Harm had just dropped on her was indescribable. She laid down and buried her head into a pillow. There was a time where she believed that no matter how long she waited, Harm would be there. Now, she was without him and he was without her.

They were both alone.

Her sorrow was muffled in the pillow, her tears stained the fabric.

He meant that he loved her. She knew that he was gone.

To be continued. . .


	8. The Test

Disclaimer: not mine

Author's Notes: Thanks for all the comments! I appreciate them!

**The Seven**

by e-dog

Chapter Eight

"The Test"

**March 28, 2004**

**Undisclosed Location**

Electroshock therapy was performed on Locke, right in front of him. Every time Harm refused to join their malicious cult, they flipped the switch and Locke's body convulsed in a horrifying way. When it got down to the very last round of shocks; the ones that would ultimately kill him. . .Harm had to relent. He couldn't let Krennick murder him, just because of his refusal. Harm became the latest addition to "The Seven" and Locke lived to see another day.

That's when they allowed him the phone call. One chance, one call.

"I love you," he said. She went silent. He couldn't believe he just said that. Out of pure fear of her reaction he called her name, "Mac?"

"I love you too."

Click. The line was dead.

The second they terminated his call with Mac, he was relieved, surprised, devastated and limp all at the same time. She loved him too? Had he really said his last goodbye to her? He wasn't sure. He didn't know what the future held. That speech of his was meant to be cryptic. He was trying to tell her who had him. But his last words. Those words were not planned. They just came out. Fleeting desperation overtook him and forced the words from his mouth. He could only imagine what he had done to her by saying it. He meant with all his heart that he loved her. He cursed himself. He always had _impeccable _timing.

Krennick wasn't suspicious at all of his behavior, which was good for him. She had no idea how his relationship with Mac really was, so the lust filled conversation went unnoticed for the most part. In fact, Mac saying she loved him too made it all the more convincing. For all Krennick knew, they could have been dating off and on for years. With that in mind, she didn't even give him any time to collect himself. She was pitiless and cold.

"Now, tell me one more time, where do your loyalties lie?" she asked just to spite him. She could see that he was mortified by the situation.

He murmured, "I'm loyal to The Seven."

Did he just say that?

Krennick leaned down and said in a low tone, "Turn that frown, upside down, Harmon. You are my own personal super spy now."

They produced new passports, gave him new suits and other necessary items. They went over the basics of their Mission Statement again. What their organization stood for, how they wanted to spread peace, blah, blah, blah. He had to begrudgingly accept his new role or they would kill someone he loved. It didn't take a rocket scientist to guess who they threatened to kill. Countless photos of Mac at work, near her apartment, at the grocery store. Someone was watching her and would be ready to gun her down if Harm ever decided to defect. What made all of this even more unbearable was the training.

His tormentor's name was Gareth.

"Fight me!"

Harm maintained his stance, just holding his fists up. He didn't want to train. He didn't want to fight. He was tired.

"Fight me!" Gareth, his trainer, shouted again. He was a tall man with large biceps and curly salt and pepper hair. An Irishman who didn't look Irish and would be quick to kick your ass if you said otherwise. For whatever reason, Harm noticed that his teeth were immaculate and he wore only the finest work out attire. He wasn't sure if Gareth was his first name or last, but that was how he was introduced. Just simply as Gareth.

Gareth was always yelling and hitting. Hitting and yelling. Sometimes, he would switch up his routine and kick Harm in his stomach. He had a knack for dishing out verbal and physical abuse.

"You're a piece of work, Rabb! That's why that girlfriend of yours will stop looking for you! She hates you!"

Gareth hit him in the head, trying to agitate him. "You're a loser! You were never fit for the Navy!"

He hit Harm again, got in his face and asked, "Are you angry yet? Are you pissed off?"

"She doesn't hate me," Harm muttered. They had been going at it for days now. Today's session so far had been four hours. Out of all that time, Harm refused to hit Gareth back. He refused to become a monster.

"Oh, yes she does," his trainer confirmed. "If she loves you like she says she does...then she will learn to hate you. She will learn to forget you."

"She doesn't hate me!" Harm finally yelled, taking a swing. He shouldn't have done it. He knew what Gareth was trying to do and he gave in. After hours of this crap, he finally gave in. His attempt at hitting Gareth missed completely and he took an uppercut to the jaw. He hit the floor and stayed there. His trainer walked up, kneeled down next to him and tapped his shoulder. Harm weakly turned his head and looked up at him.

"That anger you feel," Gareth said. "It's the only way you're going to stay alive out there."

Harm slowly rose to his feet and wiped the blood from his jaw. He looked at Gareth and asked, "Why do I get the feeling you aren't like the rest?"

Gareth didn't answer him. Instead, the berating and the fighting continued. This was how Harm spent his first two weeks as Krennick's "super spy".

**Two weeks later**

**April 12, 2004**

**Germany**

Now it was time for the test of loyalty. A test of ethics and skill. A test to see just how far he would go to get the job done. How far he would go to make sure they never laid a finger on Mac.

His feet were pounding against the pavement. It was raining pretty hard. His hair matted down to his skull and his clothes stuck to his body. Sirens blared behind him. The package he went after was tucked nicely in his breast pocket inside a small silver case. His mission was a "humanitarian" one. The objective was to steal a computer chip from the "bad guys" and bring it in for "analysis". The computer chip had the potential to unleash a deadly worm across multiple networks. It could successfully shut down airports, hospitals, law enforcement agencies, etc. all at once. The last thing he wanted was to drop this right in Krennick's lap, but he had no choice.

He whipped around a corner into a dark alley. He ran all the way to the other end and paused. Where was the car? There was supposed to be a car here! He kept reassuring himself the chip was there by patting the pocket. Stealing the chip wasn't hard. He was dropped on the roof of the hotel. His assigned partner Charles Trey bypassed the security system and Harm was inside no problem. The chip was in a safe, which he easily cracked into. What he didn't count on was the Mrs. taking a shower, coming out and catching him.

"Halt!" shouted a German police officer. Harm didn't turn around, but decided he had to start running again. Since the car wasn't where it was supposed to be, it didn't take a genius to figure out his new employers were extending the test. He had to find his own way home. His cell phone rang and he retrieved it from his pocket.

"You backstabbing bitch. . .!" he yelled into it as he ran, the words coming out breathless. Harm wasn't one to let obscenities escape his lips, but in the past two weeks, Allison Krennick gave him good reason to.

"Once you're back in the United States, the test will be over," Krennick said, her voice crackling more then usual thanks to the bad reception. He could feel her grin through the phone.

Harm angrily terminated the call and sprinted down another dark alleyway. He could hear the pounding of several feet behind him. He could hear their varied shouts of German and bad English. The chance of escape was becoming slimmer and slimmer. He came to an abrupt halt at a wire fence. He grabbed at the fence in frustration and turned around. There were four of them. They hadn't drawn their weapons yet.

He had hoped it wouldn't come down to this.

But now this was a game of survival, not morals.

He reached under his jacket and pulled out two mini pistols that had been secured to a belt around his waist. He could see the fear in their eyes at the sight of the firearms, but they were determined to do their job. They started advancing and pulled their guns. Harm unloaded on them. The bullets whizzed by him, but he remained focused.

The pistols only had 10 shots each, so it wasn't too long before he had exhausted them all. Most of his shots were purposely arrant because a part of him still wasn't ready to kill innocent people. However, some of them hit their mark. Two of them went down. The other two courageously stood up again, with minor injuries in their arms or legs. The bullets merely nicked them.

Harm dropped his depleted weapons and charged both men. His right fist landed in a jaw, while his other hand smacked something else. A foot kicked him in his back. He recovered and slammed one guy into the fence. Everything moved so fast. When the last man fell, his breathing came out in short, frantic breaths. He looked at the four men, not sure who was alive or who was just unconscious. He checked his pocket. The computer chip was still there.

His feet felt as if they were glued to the ground. He couldn't move. What was he doing here? He didn't belong here. He wasn't cut out to be a secret agent. Especially not an agent working for the wrong people. As the rain continued to cascade down his face, an appealing thought crossed his mind. He could destroy it right here. Drop the computer chip on the ground, take one of the pistols and blow it all to hell.

The thought was there and it sounded beautiful, but he couldn't. His defection would result in something he would regret later.

He turned around when he heard more footsteps, but recognized the man as his partner. Harm glared at him, "You set me up."

"Shut-up, you passed," Trey snarled and waved his hand to follow him. Both men quickly ran from the scene and hopped into their van. "You have the chip?"

Harm didn't answer. He just wanted to get the hell out of Germany.

"Hey, newbie, did you get the chip?" Trey snapped at him.

"I got the chip," Harm muttered finally.

"Good, good," Trey smiled, then started his teasing. "You know, there is one thing I have to say."

"Oh, I'm sure you don't _have_ to say anything," Harm tried to cut him off, but when Trey was on a roll there was no stopping him.

"You fight like a girl. When we get back, we'll go to the gym. Teach you some kung-fu or something."

He gave Harm a congratulatory pat on the back like he did some real good. Harm merely scowled in his direction. What an idiot.

**April 13, 2004**

**Seven Headquarters**

**Somewhere in Chicago**

As usual, Harm had been blindfolded as they approached headquarters. They didn't want him to have any inkling of where this place was located. He could always tell they were entering a parking garage.

Everything echoed so loudly in a parking garage. The cars, the people talking, the sound of doors shutting and closing. He could hear it all. The path from the garage to the main lobby was a short trip. About 20 paces.

They went down two flights of stairs, through a door, walked on a tile floor then boarded an elevator which also went down. When they entered the elevator, they removed the blindfold and released the handcuffs from around his wrists. From this point on, he was free to move anywhere he wanted. The elevator doors opened and he quickly exited, wanting to find his office and lock himself in there.

It seemed quite preposterous at first that they would give him his own office. He quickly learned everything he did in there was monitored. Whether it be a video camera, microphones or bugs on his phone. They knew everything he was doing so there was no chance he could contact the outside.

He literally ran into his space and shut the door. It was a nice little space. A desk, office chair, a small loveseat and a mini fridge. Whenever he had to shower, he would go to the locker rooms near the gym. The space was livable, but in reality, all he wanted was to go back to his real home.

He collapsed into his chair and covered his face with his hands. This was all wrong. It was a hard lesson to learn, but living a life of secrecy wasn't for him. It was even worse when all contact with the people he knew and loved was completely severed. At least before, when he was at the CIA, he had the option of calling people.

He started his report on the mission, just to stay busy. Hours passed. Eventually, he found himself staring at the ceiling, thinking of his former life. Thinking about Mac. His office door was opened and Trey looked at him, "We have a meeting in five minutes. You remember which conference room, right? Or do I have to hold your hand again?"

"Yeah, I remember," Harm nodded, ignoring Trey's comment.

Trey just nodded in return and left. Harm rolled his eyes. Charles Trey was a former, disgruntled FBI agent who claimed he was screwed over by the government. Now, Krennick and the other six nimrods running this organization had brainwashed him. Everyone here, including Trey, believed they were doing the right thing. Well, not really.

They understood that blowing things up was wrong. They understood they were now considered domestic terrorists which is definitely punishable by death. They all had valid opinions, but had machine guns to back them up. Harm could care less if they hated the war on Iraq or whether they were advocates to gay rights. What was appalling to him was that these people understood their actions were wrong and they just didn't care.

Charles Trey was a good example of this. Just because he was a former FBI agent, that didn't make him a saint. His work in the field had been reckless and he ended up getting a man killed in action. He had been very vocal towards his superiors about his opinions on various political issues and they eventually got tired of him. Hence, Trey now working for The Seven. This organization craved people like Trey.

Harm rose from his chair to prepare himself for this meeting. In a few short minutes, he arrived at the conference room and took his seat next to Trey. There was a total of five people: Krennick, Trey, two other technicians and himself. Krennick was at the head of the table. In front of her was the computer chip Harm had stolen. The sight of it made him sick to his stomach. He began to hate himself for what he had done.

She finally started, "Thanks to Rabb's good work, we now have this chip. After taking time out to study it, we discovered we can't run it in any computer. There's a specific disk drive that is very rare. In fact, there is only one in the entire world that can read it."

She stood up and pressed a button on a remote control. It revealed the picture of a man. Round in the face, but looked as mean as a pit bull. Harm studied the picture as she continued, "This is Paulo Giacomo. He's notorious for forging great works of art, then selling them for top dollar. He's so good at what he does, the authorities have never been able to link any physical evidence to arrest him. He recently starting stealing much more priceless pieces. Pieces such as this computer chip."

One of the techies chimed in after the brief biography, "The place where you stole the chip from was actually one of his many suites around Europe. He was going to sell the chip and the disk drive on the black market. Thanks to our newest member, Harmon Rabb, he won't be able to sell it to any of the _real_ terrorists."

Harm's face dropped at that last statement, while the others laughed at the humor. Krennick gave him the most sickly smile and he looked away.

The techie finished, "The disk drive is hidden in an office at his restaurant."

It was at this Harm took the time to look at his folder. Inside gave the name of the restaurant and his new assignment. He almost groaned out loud, but managed to contain his distaste. He had just come back from Germany. Now she was sending him off again?

"Harm, you will travel to Milan with Trey," she ordered. "Harold will go over op-tech."

Harm slowly shifted his eyes to meet Harold's. The kid smiled brightly, seemingly eager to get started. The meeting was adjourned, but Krennick ordered Harm to stay behind. He paused out of aggravation, then plopped back down into his chair. She could hear her snort as she remarked, "Don't look so disappointed. You're a better agent than you think. That's why I chose you."

Harm sighed. "I'm only doing this to protect the ones I love, so excuse the fact that I look disappointed."

She sighed and sat back down in her chair. "Harm, whether you want to admit it or not, you were amazing in Germany. The CIA made a mistake in just using you as a pilot."

"I still don't understand why I'm here," he told her, his face taking on a tormented and alienated expression. "What did I do to you? Why me?"

He watched her eyes narrow some, but she didn't answer him. Answering that question truthfully would reveal too much of herself and she didn't want him to have any advantage over her. Instead she leaned back and smiled, "Harm, you are here because I need people out there I can trust. Sure, Trey will do anything for me, but he isn't always as leveled headed as you. You are the best."

Her typical drawl was irritating him, but he took it in stride. If he was so great, now was a time for negotiations. He leaned forward and told her, "Well, since I'm doing so well, I want something now."

"You're in no position to make demands," she laughed at him. "Don't forget that I control you now. Not the other way around."

Control. If it was one thing Harm hated to lose, it was control. He forged on, despite how much he wanted to fly across the table and strangle her. "I've been loyal. I passed your test and got you that chip. I want something now. Just one thing."

She squinted in thought at his statement. He was being very resilient and demanding. She decided since he got the courage to speak up, she might as well pretend to listen. She leaned forward and replied, "Okay. What do you want?"

"Stop trailing, Sarah Mackenzie," he almost ordered. "It's clear NCIS has hit numerous dead ends in my disappearance and they won't be able to find me. She promised me she would stop investigating and I believe she has. She is no longer a threat to you, so leave her alone."

He sat there waiting on her response. She seemed to be thinking it over with great care. She sighed and answered him, "You complete this mission in Milan, I promise to stop trailing Mac. Deal?"

Harm hesitated. He was hoping she would just give this to him. Obviously, he hoped for too much. He stood up and reluctantly agreed, "Deal. What's my cover for this operation?"

"You'll be posing as a potential investor for Giacomo's restaurant chain," she replied as she also rose from her chair. "You suggest a meeting in his office, stun him and steal the drive from his vault."

"Consider it done," Harm said with determination. He walked out stiffly, doing his best not to make eye contact with anyone else. He was making a deal with the devil, he knew this, but in the end Mac would be better off. She could go on to live her life without having to always look over her shoulder.

To be continued. . .


	9. A Dinner with Friends

Disclaimer: not mine

Author's Note: Thank you all for the feedback. I appreciate it. ) I apologize because this chapter is a little short. I'll make up for it in the next one. Thanks again.

**The Seven**

by e-dog

Chapter Nine

"A Dinner With Friends"

**April 13, 2004**

**Mac's Apartment**

**Georgetown**

Their last conversation haunted her dreams at night. The way he begged her to back away from the investigation. His confession of "I love you." It all replayed in her mind when she told Gibbs that she had to take herself away from the case. Even he had to look at her with a perplexed expression. Gibbs's eyes seemed to ask her, why? Especially after she told him dead bodies were not going to scare her away. She had been adamant about finding Harmon Rabb and now all of sudden, she wasn't?

In response to their stunned expressions, she came up with the very lame excuse of being too close to the case and that it would be better to continue working at JAG. With Harm missing, her other co-workers were being burdened with a combination of her cases and Harm's. The entire NCIS crew cast gazes of disbelief, but once she made the announcement, she was quick to avoid their stares. She excused herself, thanked them for their efforts and bolted.

Two weeks had passed since then. She chopped away at some celery and checked the pot on the stove. She was making a soup Harm had made for her once. One of his typical, healthy/organic meals that he raved about for weeks. He claimed it was so good and insisted she try it. She joked around and said, if he really wanted to make her some celery soup dish, he would have to wait until she caught a cold. She only ate soup when she was sick.

If the punchline hasn't been guessed yet, she fell ill almost a week later. He made the soup and brought it over, along with the recipe on how to make it. He was so convinced she would love it, that it would be a shame if she couldn't make it for herself someday. She pretended to gag on it, but just like he said she would, she really did love it. Now she was making it again out of pure nostalgia.

After chopping the celery, she read the recipe card out loud, "Cook celery, potatoes and onions in water until tender."

Once all items were boiling away and she was sick of stirring, she took a second to sit down for a break. The moment she took a seat, there was a knock on her door. She immediately prayed it wasn't Clay. He usually took two week intervals for his visits and it had been two weeks since she last saw him. She answered the door and paused. It was definitely not Clay. Kate and Tony gave her awkward smiles and stood there waiting on her to speak.

"Uh, hey," she forced a smile. "What's up?"

"Can we come in?" Tony asked, holding a pizza box. "We brought food."

Kate also gave her a pleading look and Mac tried to get herself out of it, "Actually, I'm making dinner and I wasn't planning on. . ."

"Dinner? Great!" Tony smiled widely and barged his way in. "We can all eat together!"

"Uh, okay," Mac sighed and stepped aside to let Kate in as well. She was too exhausted to force them to leave. Tony ventured into the kitchen to spy on what was cooking in the pot. Kate slowly walked around the family room, pretending to inspect the furniture. Mac walked over to her and asked, "Why are you here?"

"We just wanted to visit," Kate shrugged, trying to act apathetic.

"This smells good," Tony called from the kitchen, while he inspected the recipe card. "Family recipe?"

"Actually, it's Harm's recipe. He gave it to me a few years ago," Mac answered quickly and folded her arms across her chest. "Now really, why are you two here? A break in the case or something? Came to deliver some bad news?"

Tony was walking back into the family room when Mac asked that. He and Kate exchanged wary glances, which made Mac wonder if it really was bad news. Kate finally replied, "We have officially finished our work on the case. We felt we should tell you in person."

"Now, it's not completely over," Tony chimed in, trying to make the news sound better. "We just passed it off to some other agents who specialize in missing persons. They'll continue to look for Harm. We're confident they'll find him."

"Thanks, guys, but you didn't have to come all this way to tell me that," Mac told them, although her voice still sounded appreciative.

"Yeah, we did," Tony smiled warmly. Kate also beamed a hearty smile in her direction.

"Uh, well, make yourselves comfortable then," she offered, finding herself in an awkward position. It was rare she had company over. She suddenly felt very inexperienced and unsure of what to do. "The soup will take a little while longer. . ."

Mac walked back into the kitchen to check on the pot of vegetables, while Tony and Kate rested on her couch. She continued to make herself busy at the stove, still amazed they were even here. She had never met any agent in her life that cared that much. Once a case was closed, they severed all ties to the case and moved on. Their behavior made her wonder if there was another reason for them being here. Lost in her thoughts, she didn't hear Kate walk into the kitchen. She turned around and jumped, startled.

"Sorry," Kate immediately apologized.

"No, I just didn't hear you," Mac smiled shyly and went to retrieve some milk from the fridge. She retrieved the carton she was looking for and turned around to find Kate giving her a concerned stare. Mac coughed and asked, "Is something wrong?"

"Why didn't you call me back?" Kate asked bluntly.

"Call you back?" Mac asked dumbly.

"Yeah, remember?" Kate gave her a knowing stare, then relayed everything she remembered. "You were going on about your CIA boyfriend. He was being a jerk, he gave you something you had to burn. Your other phone was ringing, you said you would call back and you never did. Then you came into NCIS that morning announcing you were leaving the case."

"Oh, that phone call," Mac sighed and stirred the contents of the pot. She was doing everything in her power to ignore Kate.

"Who called you? Did someone threaten you?" Kate asked. "Because if they did, you could've told us."

"Actually, no I couldn't," Mac tried to laugh it off and turned to face Kate. "Yes, I guess you could say I was threatened to stop investigating."

"Then why didn't you say anything?" Kate asked, completely baffled by her behavior.

"Look, I really don't want to talk about it and even if I told you, it wouldn't change anything," Mac said rapidly, her voice taking on an even more depressed tone. They both heard a timer go off. Mac changed course and instructed, "You can tell Tony the soup is almost done. I'll set the table."

Kate wanted to push for answers, but in her limited experience with Mac, she knew there was nothing more going to be said. It was obvious Harm was on her mind because she was making a recipe recommended by him! At some point, she would get Mac to tell her the truth, but tonight wasn't going to be the night. Instead, Kate smiled and agreed to call Tony to the table. In a few minutes, the table was set with the odd assortment of pepperoni pizza, complimented with celery and potato soup. Kate and Tony were careful to talk about everything but Harm. Mac was glad they respected her decision to stay quiet.

It had been a long time since she had a quiet dinner in her own home with a group of friends. While they joked, Mac's eyes lingered across the table.

There was still one empty seat.

**April 13, 2004**

**II Ristorante Di Giacomo**

**Milan, Italy**

Harm entered the restaurant clad in a very expensive Armani suit and he smiled at the waiter. In Italian, the waiter asked him if he had a reservation. Seeing how Harm had no schooling in other languages, he waited on Trey's translation. Through his ear piece, he was given the appropriate response. He adjusted his reading glasses and stroked his mustache, "Il mio nome è Thomas Quinton. Ho una prenotazione con il Mister Giacomo."

"Segualo," the waiter said after checking his list. He motioned for Harm to follow. Harm complied, wondering what the waiter thought of his bad accent. It was probably obvious he was American. He was led to a table, but was surprised to find another man sitting there who wasn't Paulo Giacomo. The other man seemed just as surprised to see him.

Harm paused briefly, looking at him. He was a skinny man with dirty blond hair. The man's eyes squinted at him dumbfounded and he asked slowly in a French accent, "Have we met, sir?"

Trey buzzed in Harm's ear piece and made Harm ask the waiter if this was the correct table. The waiter insisted it was. That Mr. Giacomo would arrive any minute. Harm simply smiled. He had to go along with it.

He took his seat next to the mysterious stranger and eyed him warily. He nervously stroked the mustache and then sipped some water. Before too long, Giacomo showed up with a hearty laugh, "Welcome to my restaurant, Mr. Quinton."

"You speak perfect English," Harm remarked, a little surprised and shook his hand. The round face, Italian was much larger in person. It made him all the more intimidating.

"These days, you need to know several languages to do business," Giacomo lectured as he took his seat. "For instance, Mr. Latimore is from France and we have to translate our contracts from Italian to French and vice versa."

"Let me test you in my language," Mr. Latimore suggested, deciding to play Giacomo's game. He extended his hand and Harm shook it. "It's un plaisir de vous rencontrer, Monsieur Quinton."

Harm pretended to be thinking about it while he waited on the translation in his ear, then replied, "It's very nice to meet you too, Mr. Latimore."

"Ah, you speak French too!" Giacomo winked at Harm and all the men shared in the laugh. Harm was laughing harder, mostly because he knew he didn't speak French at all!

At that moment, a beautiful waitress walked up and smiled gayly. Her hair was cut in a short bob and her outfit was purposely tailored to catch any hungry man's eye. She flipped her short hair from side to side before asking, "Can I get your drink orders?"

"I'll have tonic water," Harm requested.

"Staying away from the alcohol, Mr. Quinton?" Giacomo joked, while Harm tried to smile back. This guy being overly cheerful all the time was getting old really fast. Latimore and Giacomo ordered their drinks as well.

Mr. Latimore then spoke up and suggested, "Should we get down to business? It appears Mr. Quinton and I are here for the same reasons, no?"

"Yes, both of you are about to become filthy rich," Giacomo joked.

Harm smiled, then noticed something out of the corner of his eye. The very same waitress who took their drink orders wasn't heading for the bar. Instead, she wove her way in and out of the crowd then slipped into a corridor off to the side. He knew from studying the blueprints of this building that the corridor led to Giacomo's office! He quickly glanced at Latimore, suddenly leery. Originally, it was only supposed to be Giacomo and himself. The arrival of a third party was very suspicious now.

Harm leaned forward before major negotiations started and suggested, "Why don't we take our business to the office? We are discussing very delicate matters, after all."

Just like Harm thought he would, Latimore immediately objected in his thick accent, "No, that is not necessary. We have transferred all money."

"Well, Mr. Quinton has yet to transfer his money and I have a computer in my office," Giacomo replied and rose to his feet. "We will go to the office and discuss final terms there. Then we will celebrate."

Harm also rose from his chair and followed Giacomo to the office. He noticed that Latimore was lagging behind, but ignored him for the time being. No sense in making a scene right now.

Mr. Latimore (aka CIA Agent Michael Vaughn) kept up the pace with the other two men, but stayed back far enough so he could talk in private. He subtly tilted his head towards his left shoulder and spoke into his microphone, "Syd! Get out, Giacomo is coming to the office!"

"ETA?" she asked him.

"Less than 20 seconds," he answered her, then finally caught up with Giacomo and Quinton. They arrived to the locked office door and Giacomo used a key card to unlock it. Both Harm and Vaughn waited on him to open the door, anticipating a surprise guest to greet them inside.

To be continued. . .


	10. Authorized Personnel Only

Disclaimer: not mine

Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews. Still interested?

**The Seven**

by e-dog

Chapter Ten

"Authorized Personnel Only"

**April 13, 2004**

**II Ristorante Di Giacomo**

**Milan, Italy**

Agent Sydney Bristow had run operations like this in past.

The arrival of this Thomas Quinton was just a minor detour. She had suffered through worse predicaments. However, this unassuming investor was still a very untrusting individual. Why didn't Giacomo mention Quinton before? When she was surveying the restaurant in her waitress persona, she noticed how Quinton's eyes danced in nervousness. He stroked the mustache under his nose with slightly shaky hands. He seemed to sense something wasn't right. He kept looking at Latimore suspiciously. It didn't take him too long to realize that Latimore was a fake. Mere seconds after gaining access to the office, Vaughn frantically buzzed in her ear:

"Syd! Get out, Giacomo is coming to the office!"

Her blood ran cold as she asked, "ETA?"

"Less than 20 seconds!"

The conversation ended there. She ignored Vaughn's plea to abort. Twenty seconds. No problem. Her hands worked quickly to configure her pen into the laser that would successfully burn the lock off.

She stopped what she was doing when she heard the voices outside in the hallway. Vaughn wasn't kidding when he said _less than _20 seconds! She didn't even have time to approach the vault that contained the coveted disk drive. The key card made it's beeping sound announcing access to the office. She needed a place to hide and fast. . .

Giacomo swung the door open loudly and let Harm and Vaughn enter first. Both men, unaware they were looking for the same person, scanned the room but there was no sign of her. It was safe to assume she was long gone. The realization that the waitress wasn't here still wracked Harm with uncertainty, while Vaughn could breathe a sigh of relief. For once, it appeared Sydney didn't take his warning lightly. She was always trying to outdo herself.

Giacomo offered them chairs at a conference table and they took them. He grabbed a flat machine and flipped it around to face him as he spoke, "Just give me a moment to set up the laptop, okay?"

"Take your time," Harm said, still feeling strange. Something wasn't right, he just knew it. While Giacomo talked about his restaurant chain, Harm tuned him out and occasionally looked around the room.

"Hey, newbie, " Trey crackled in his ear. "We don't have a lot of time, so start negotiating. I'll access the security system and keep a look out for guards. Going radio silent."

Trey terminated his connection for the time being and Harm glanced at Mr. Latimore. His techie (Harold) only anticipated dealing with Giacomo, therefore only giving him one tranquilizer dart. Now he had to deal with this unexpected guest. It was time to improvise. Harm smiled and kindly interrupted, "All of this talk is unnecessary. I have an offer and I am eager to start this partnership."

Latimore glanced at him warily, while Giacomo watched as he reached into his jacket to retrieve his "offer". Instead, Harm quickly whipped out his tranquilizer dart and fired it at Latimore who fell out of his chair and hit the floor. Within seconds, Latimore (aka Vaughn), was passed out.

"What the hell?" shouted Giacomo. Before he knew it, Harm had another gun with a silencer attached, trained on him.

"Give me access to the vault and I won't be forced to kill you."

"Who the hell do you think you are?" Giacomo growled at him, but was sure to keep his hands where Harm could see them.

"Someone who will shoot you if you don't open the vault!" Harm answered him, trying to sound menacing but a part of him was still overanxious and his heart was aflutter. He had never done this before and he felt that's why Krennick was forcing him to take these assignments. He was inexperienced. Maybe she hoped one of these missions would eventually kill him.

Meanwhile, Trey had entered through a back door and found a junction box. He tapped into the security feed and checked the miniature monitor in his hands. After flipping through the different signals, he saw Harm getting Giacomo to open the vault. Trey smiled, "Not bad, newbie."

Then movement caught his eyes. He saw a woman dressed like a waitress, loading her gun and emerging from under the desk. He turned his radio back on and warned him, "Harm, to your right! You have company!"

Harm immediately did as he was told to find the waitress preparing to open fire at him. Shots were discharged. He ducked and rolled to his left. He was then back up in an upright position, resting on his right knee and he returned fire. She disappeared back behind the desk and Harm held his ground, waiting to see if she would pop back up.

At the junction box, Trey was watching all of this and then noticed a blinking red light. He checked his scans and cursed to himself. "Harm, get out now! Giacomo wasn't opening the vault. He hit a silent alarm button! I repeat, abort now! I'll meet you outside at the van!"

Trey disconnected his equipment and ran out. Harm on the other hand was reluctant to leave. "I can't! I'm not leaving!"

If he didn't get the disk drive, the deal with Krennick would be off. Her henchmen would continue to haunt Mac from the shadows. However, when the waitress popped up for another round and Giacomo escaped out a secret panel, Harm decided it was best to run for his life. He ran out, firing shots in her direction just long enough until he was out of her sight.

Vaughn groggily lifted his head up off the floor and felt hands grab under his arms to help raise him up. "Sydney?"

"C'mon, Vaughn, we have to leave!" Sydney coaxed. He sensed the urgency and did his best to start running. They clumsily ran out together missing the arrival of the police by mere seconds.

Harm ran up to the van breathlessly and opened the door. He looked over his shoulder to spy Giacomo's restaurant in the distance. He could see the flashing police lights and hear the commotion he had just caused. Frustration with his situation and doubt overtook him again as he replayed what had just happened in his head.

Trey impatiently yelled, "Let's go, Harm! I know what you're thinking. Don't run."

Harm snapped out of it and jumped inside. His door slammed shut as Trey sped away. Harm tore the mustache from his face and took off the reading glasses. He was sweating profusely. Mostly from running, but also from the jitters coursing through his body. He took a second to glance back in wonderment. That waitress and Mr. Latimore were not who they claimed to be. The question was, who were they?

"Did you know them?" Trey asked him finally. He must've noticed Harm's constant gazes back towards the restaurant.

"Me? No, I have no clue," Harm replied, finally focusing on the road ahead. He had to think about what he was going to say to Krennick. He failed to get the disk drive and now Mac's life was in his hands. What was he going to do?

**April 14, 2004**

**Seven Headquarters**

**Somewhere in Chicago**

"_Watch your back and keep your loved ones close_." Mark's words echoed in his head with every blow he delivered to the punching bag. How could she kill him? When did Krennick become so evil? She took Andy and then Mark. She damn near killed Locke and now she was following Mac. He punched the bag and said through clenched teeth, "I'll never forget you, Mark. I didn't take your advice before. I'll protect them. . .somehow."

Harm paused for a moment, his eyes playing tricks on him again. He could see a fuzzy image of Mark, standing off to the side giving that fatherly grin. He said to him, _"Sometimes...people do confuse death as heroism. In fact, death can be a result of cowardice, accident or bad luck." _

Then just like that, the image of Mark was gone. Harm shook it off and started to work out again. Lack of sleep and the craziness of his last mission were sending him into a state of delirium. This wasn't the first time he thought he saw Mark or thought he heard Mark speaking to him.

Bad luck. Was that all Mark's death amounted to? Bad luck?

"One, two! One, two!" Gareth yelled, keeping a rhythm for Harm to follow. They were working out in the gym because frankly, Harm didn't have anything better to do. Getting out his frustrations by punching this bag was better than trying to sleep. Krennick was "unavailable" when they got back and he didn't know where else to go. Gareth had become a "friend", so to speak, and there was too much on his mind to even think about sleeping. Harm punched the bag one last time, before deciding to take a break.

"You're quiet," Gareth commented, tossing him a water bottle. "I know I haven't been your trainer for long, but you're usually more vocal than this."

"I'm having a hard time with this transition from my old life to the new one," Harm answered blandly. "Wouldn't you?"

"I suppose, but I choose to work here, so I guess I can't relate," Gareth admitted. He watched Harm take a seat on a workout bench and gulp copious amounts of water. Harm was in his own little world now, ignoring him. He leaned on another apparatus across from Harm and commented, "She wasn't always this bitter."

"Who?"

"Krennick."

"Well, I guess you really don't know her," Harm laughed and finished the water bottle. He tossed it aside and stretched his arms. "She's always been a pain as far as I'm concerned."

"You used to work with her?" Gareth continued to pry. He was fishing for something. What is was, Harm didn't know.

Harm stood up and unwrapped his wrists. "Yeah. At JAG."

"Oh," Gareth replied, noticing his trainee's reluctance to go any further on the topic. "I dunno, she just seems especially interested in you. I was wondering if you could provide any insight on that."

Harm's eyes narrowed some and his face took on an ever more somber expression. He also looked curious; probably wondering why it even mattered. Harm wiped sweat from his face with his towel and answered, "She wanted to sleep with me back then and I get the feeling she still does now."

"Is that so?" Gareth replied. "I doubt that's why she's still interested in you."

Harm glanced up at his trainer and suddenly understood why he was so inquisitive. Harm gathered up the last of his things, feeling incredibly awkward. He said quietly, "Are you two an item?"

"For eight years now," Gareth said, smiling a toothy grin and taking two shorts steps to stand next to him. He leaned over to Harm's ear and whispered, "If I ever find out you were putting the moves on my girl, I'll kill you myself."

Harm held his ground, remembering countless times Krennick had "put the moves" on him. He asked, "What if it's the other way around and I'm completely innocent?"

"I assure you that will not happen," Gareth promised, then patted him on the back with unnecessary force. "Great workout session, Harm. You're getting better."

Harm shied away from Gareth, then watched his trainer leave. It pained him to realize this, but he had a feeling this wouldn't be the last time Gareth would confront him on this issue. Harm shook his head and commented under his breath, "You really don't know her as well as you think."

**April 14, 2004**

**APO Headquarters**

**Somewhere in Los Angeles**

Authorized Personnel Only (or APO) was the Black Ops division Sydney Bristow had signed up for. Little did she realize that Arvin Sloane was running the place. If she had known, she would've never taken the job. But alas, it seemed her involvement with this organization was meant to be and that Sloane would always be an integral part of her life. . .whether she liked it or not.

Sydney was dropping her things off at her desk when her father walked by to tell her there was meeting in two minutes. She just nodded and he left as abruptly as he showed up. It was then Vaughn's turn to say hello for the first time since getting back from Milan.

"You okay?" he asked. He could always tell when something was bothering her.

"I'm fine," she smiled, then admitted. "Working here. . .working for Sloane. It's still a little hard to swallow."

"I know," he agreed and flashed a smile at her. "C'mon, we'll be late."

Sydney and Vaughn walked into the conference room together, as Jack Bristow prepared for the meeting on the events in Milan. Marcus Dixon (another field agent) and Marshall Flinkman (the techie) were also present. Sydney kept a wary eye on her father, wondering where Sloane had disappeared to. Once a terror to the entire free world, Sloane now took pleasure in running operations here at APO. His absence unnerved her.

"Just so that you are aware, Sloane is picking up another operative. He'll be back shortly," Jack began, explaining Sloane's whereabouts like he had just read her mind. "I will conduct this meeting and hand out new assignments, if necessary."

He instructed all of them to open their folders and began, "In there you will find all current knowledge of the group known as The Seven. Based on the fact that a rare computer chip was stolen, we could only anticipate The Seven would go after the disk drive next. We were right in assuming so, just surprised by how quickly they responded."

"But we do have some good news, " Marshall, their op-tech guy, announced. He stood up, fumbled with a remote which revealed a distorted surveillance camera picture. "A bank security camera caught our two boys fleeing the scene, so to speak. After a few hours of transferring the video to my hard drive and then meticulously breaking down every pixel. . . you know, pixel as in the unit that. . ."

"Marshall," Jack warned before the young man got off track. Sydney and Vaughn exchanged amused glances. Marshall was always so entertaining.

"Right, sorry, Mr. Bristow. You da man," Marshall winked at Jack. He continued to fumble over his words, "Anyway, after I did that, I ran their pictures through are face recognition database," he concluded and hit another button. "Here they are."

First, a picture of a man Sydney nor Vaughn recognized from Milan appeared. Marshall went over his brief history,"This is former FBI Agent Charles Trey. He was fired around the same time we believe The Seven got their start. So, my best guess is that Mr. Trey is one of the original seven. You know, I kinda imagine him as being the fifth guy. I dunno, he looks like he could be a number five. Anyway, he used to be their number one guy for covert operations."

"Used to be?" Vaughn chimed in.

"Well, he had a run in with Spanish police and was arrested. For whatever reason, his employers showed him mercy and orchestrated his escape," Marshall explained, then added. "I'd say he's a valuable asset to the team."

"If he's so valuable, why isn't he the number one guy?" Sydney asked.

"Because of guy number two," Marshall said as he hit another button, revealing the service photo of a Naval Commander. "This is Commander Harmon Rabb, Jr. Or former Commander seeing how he's not working for the Navy anymore."

Jack took this time to intervene, tiring of Marshall's drawl. "He was a fighter pilot ace, turned JAG lawyer."

"A lawyer?" Dixon chuckled. "How does a JAG lawyer end up working for The Seven?"

"Once you hear his resume, you may not be so surprised," Jack commented and changed the screen to display Harm's picture along with his many accomplishments.

"He's teamed up with the CIA on numerous occasions including: an operation at the Sudanese Embassy in 1998; several treks over to Russia involving Mark Falcon; and one memorable mission in Paraguay where he successfully blew up a truck of stinger missiles before they fell into the hands of our enemy."

"He did all that?" Marshall asked, looking very surprised. In fact, the entire team looked shocked. Since when did JAG lawyers get to have that much fun?

"There's more," Jack said, with the hint of a smile. He also seemed amused. "He was accused of murder twice and then acquitted. He lost his lawyering job twice and was hired back both times. He was once a CIA operative for a few months earlier this year flying missions. To make a long story, short: Our friend Mr. Rabb has had a very exciting career."

"I'll say," Vaughn remarked, then leaned forward to address everyone at the table. "Minus the two murder charges, it sounds like everything this guy has done in the past has been in the best interest of this country. Why the sudden change? Why is he working for The Seven?"

"I think now will be a good time to point out that Rabb was at the center of an NCIS investigation," Marshall said, trying to answer the question.

"NCIS? What for?" Sydney inquired.

"His abduction," Marshall clarified. "According to his partner Lt. Colonel Sarah Mackenzie, his home was broken into, he was shot and kidnapped three weeks ago."

Jack slowly walked around the table, passing behind Dixon, then Sydney, then Vaughn. He came to a stop at the other end and leaned on the edge of the table. He scanned everyone's faces, making eye contact with them all. He finished, "We know that Trey is actively involved with The Seven, but Rabb is a new player. Almost everything in Rabb's record shows he was a patriot, not a traitor. We need to find out more about his abduction. Surely a man of his caliber would not willingly work for this terrorist group."

"Especially not after he was running operations trying to stop them," came Sloane's voice from the door. His sudden appearance surprised everyone, but he continued to speak, "Rabb flew a mission back in October designed to gain intel on The Seven. A member of the team was killed in the process."

"Okay, but how do we know he wasn't just sabotaging the mission?" Sydney asked, still unsure.

"Because I know Harmon Rabb, Jr," said another voice. He wore a suit, vest and tie and had a quirky smile. "He would never betray this country."

"And you are?" Sydney asked defensively.

"This is Agent Clayton Webb," Sloane introduced him. "His familiarity with Rabb goes way back. In fact, they worked together in Paraguay, where Rabb saved his life. I believe Mr. Webb's insight will only prove that Rabb is operating under orders from The Seven against his will."

Clay looked around the room. The stares were unbearable. Even the offbeat tech guy was giving him a misgiving glare. He could tell they didn't trust him. The stares from Jack Bristow were especially aggressive. He cleared his throat, trying to ignore them. It was time to get down to business.

"The Seven will make a second attempt at that disk drive and I have a feeling that Harm will be their main operative. Right now, Harm is the only one inside. I believe, once he is approached, he'll wholeheartedly agree to be a double agent."

"We can discuss that when the time approaches," Sloane advised, not wanting Webb to get ahead of himself. "For right now, I feel our best bet is trying to extract him and gathering whatever information he can give us. We'll meet again in an hour once I have consulted this issue further with Mr. Webb."

The group disbanded, still giving Clay their wary frowns. He shrugged it off. This was nothing new to him. Leery gazes came with the territory. Before he could leave the conference room, a hand landed on his shoulder and turned him back around forcefully. It was Jack and his menacing look became all the more frightening.

"I just wanted to let you know that I'm watching you."

Clay blinked a few times, then replied, "Watching me? What have I done?"

Jack answered him. His voice calm and steady, "First, I don't trust Sloane. Second, Sloane found you, therefore I automatically assume you two are affiliated."

Clay shook his head in amazement, "Maybe we are, but for the same reasons you are. For his contacts."

Jack took two more steps closer to Clay, invading his personal space. "Let me be clear. I know of your relationship with Colonel Mackenzie, I know about Paraguay and I know you like to drink in excessive amounts."

"I see you've done your homework."

Jack didn't waver and he didn't give him any space to breathe. He spoke in a very low tone and warned, "My daughter will most likely be trying to extract your friend. If your instincts about Harmon Rabb are wrong, and if she is in any danger because of that, I'll be the first one to express my disappointment."

With that, Jack brushed past Clay and out the door. Clay finally took this chance to take a deep breath. He had heard stories about Jack Bristow and how unorthodox he could be. So far, he was living up to the tales. Clay looked over his shoulder and spied the father/daughter team talking by her desk. Jack caught Clay's stare and sent him another nonverbal warning.

Clay ignored it and went in search of Sloane. If they were going to get Harm out of this, they were going to need a brilliant strategy. Preferably a strategy Jack would approve of.

To be continued. . .


	11. The Return of Jason Tiner

Disclaimer: not mine

Author's Note: I took some creative license here. Some procedures concerning OCS I wasn't sure of, so I winged it. Thanks for being patient. Enjoy the next chapter.

**The Seven**

by e-dog

Chapter Eleven

"The Return of Jason Tiner"

**April 15, 2004**

**JAG Headquarters **

**Falls Church, Virginia**

This was absolutely the longest elevator ride he had ever taken.

In reality, he was only ascending a couple of floors, but it had been months since he last stepped into the JAG bullpen. In his newly purchased briefcase, a Navy cover tossed to him before he embarked on his journey to Officer Candidate School (OCS) had been stuffed in there for good luck. It was last worn by Commander Harmon Rabb, Jr. At the time, Harm was no longer in the Navy and he thought it would bring his younger prodigy good fortune. Something better than where Harm's life was suddenly going. Ensign Jason Tiner glanced down at the briefcase and thought to himself, at one point the cover was lucky. He couldn't have been more proud to own it.

It gave him confidence. Well, to be more accurate, Harm's assurance in him gave him confidence. The elevator doors finally opened and he stepped off with a grace and dignity he never thought he would ever pull off. He was a JAG lawyer now. His dream come true. There were a few bumps along the way, but he was finally here. He grinned, wondering what Admiral Chegwidden's face would look like when he walked through his office door. Instead, he came face to face with someone else, the moment he turned the corner.

They practically slammed into each other and he could hear her already beginning to apologize. He gently grabbed her shoulder to steady her and himself and their balance was regained.

"Whoa, Petty Officer!" Jason laughed, cutting off her rambling apology. He knew this would happen. That school boy crush he had on her from the first day she started at JAG resurfaced immediately. It took him a moment, but he finally asked, "Are you okay?"

"Tiner?" she blinked, finally focusing on the face of the officer in front of her. For a split second, the dress blues and officer cover had her confused. Thanks to the absence of gold wings, she figured out it wasn't Harm she had bumped into. She finally forced a smile and replied, "I'm fine, really. I wasn't paying attention and I'm sorry,. . . sir."

Jason's eyes squinched a little. He wasn't sure why, but Jenn addressing him as "sir" was just. . .weird. Not even a year ago, they held the same rank and now he was one step ahead of her. He shook the feeling away and countered, "No, no. I wasn't paying attention. It was my fault."

Jenn's smile seemed to grow into some sort of whimsical grin. He paused, wondering to himself if maybe Jennifer Coates was finally taken with his obvious charm. However, she finally got her wits about her and excused herself abruptly, "I would like to catch up, sir, but I have a few errands to run."

He nodded in understanding, slightly disappointed Jenn still wasn't interested in him. Then to his surprise, she added shyly, "Welcome back, Tiner."

"Thanks, Coates," Jason answered her with a huge grin. He watched her hurry away feeling extremely elated. Of course a relationship with her was out of the question now, but he was satisfied with the fact that she finally seemed smitten with him! Once she was out of sight, he turned his focus to the Admiral's office. His heart was aflutter and his nerves sky high. As he made the trek through the bullpen, past familiar faces (and not so familiar faces), he continued to say to himself, "Focus, Tiner. Just focus."

He knocked on the door and heard the brash voice of his CO. "Enter!"

Jason opened the door briskly, took a few short strides towards the desk, then came to attention. He did his best not to crack an overly boyish grin and stated, "Reporting for duty as ordered, sir!"

Admiral AJ Chegwidden rose from his chair, removed his glasses and folded his arms across his chest in an approving manner. He let the hint of a smile form on his lips and he said calmly, "At ease, Ensign."

Jason relaxed and gave AJ a confident smile. His CO returned the smile with just as much warmth and he said, "Welcome back, Tiner."

"Thank you for the recommendation, sir," Jason replied, the excitement in his voice very apparent by now. He just couldn't help it. He then noticed the enormous fatigue washing across AJ's face. Jason gave an inquisitive look and remarked, "You look. . .tired, sir."

"I am tired," AJ sighed, as he walked past him to shut the office door. "Have a seat, son."

Jason did as he was told and sat down. He watched AJ with obvious worry, wondering what had gone wrong. What could make this former Navy SEAL seem so down trodden? AJ seemed to be trying to find the right words, then began, "My office is in shambles."

"Sir?" Jason asked for clarification. What could have possibly happened in the last nine months? Well, if memory served him correctly, Commander Rabb and Colonel Mackenzie did have a knack for getting into trouble.

"Son, I know you've been out of the loop lately, but about three weeks ago. . .Harm went missing," AJ said, trying to make the news less heartbreaking to hear. It didn't work. He watched Jason sort of advert his attention elsewhere, not sure if he should believe what he just heard. He seemed to be eyeing his briefcase as if it was his most prized possession. AJ leaned on his desk and asked, "You okay, Tiner?"

Jason snapped his head up and replied, "I'm shocked, sir."

"I think we all still are," AJ sighed again, only this time his eyes looked heavier. His stance was less proud and his strength seemed to be draining. AJ looked up at nothing in particular and continued, "The Colonel was hit especially hard. She was the last to see Harm the night he disappeared. She feels responsible and she's been off kilter ever since."

"Oh," is all Jason can muster. His brain was having a hard time forming any concrete response. What was he supposed to say? His mentor was missing. He gave AJ a sympathetic look before asking, "How are you doing, sir?"

"Not so great, I'm afraid," AJ admitted. "Meredith betrayed me, so I'm not getting married. In all honesty, Tiner, I just want to retire and get the hell out of Falls Church."

"You don't mean that, sir," Jason objected to this crazy idea.

"Yes, I do," AJ said with all sincerity. "I mean it. I hate to think it, but I also imagine it's inevitable."

AJ paused his musing to see Jason was having a hard time taking this all in. He couldn't blame him. Jason Tiner left this office right at the beginnings of an office meltdown. Now, on his return, he had walked into the worst possible scenario. Harm was missing, the office was different, and now AJ wanted to retire.

AJ added softly, "Now, I haven't expressed my plans to retire to anyone else, so just keep that between you and me. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," Jason agreed reluctantly. "I won't tell a soul."

"Good," AJ said with a half smile. He walked back behind his desk, plopped down and fussed over some papers in front of him. He looked up and started to get down to business, "I've noticed there's some missing time here between finishing up at OIS and asking for your first duty station."

"Uh, yes, I know," Jason replied, looking a little sheepish. "I know this is very uncharacteristic of me, but near the end I grew overconfident. It took me a few extra tries to pass the bar then I thought it would, sir. After try number two, I realized what an idiot I was being and got my act together."

"I see, " AJ nodded and put his glasses back on. He looked at Jason, wondering where the hell that came from. Since when did Tiner ever lose focus of his ultimate goal? He was right; it was uncharacteristic and it couldn't be ignored. AJ rose his eyes to meet Tiner's and asked, "I trust I won't have to worry about this kind of behavior while you're here?"

"Absolutely not, sir," Jason said with all seriousness. "I'm ready for this. I've been ready for a long time."

"Good," AJ smiled wholeheartedly this time. "This office needs the help with Harm gone. For now, you'll move into his office until we can clear a space for you elsewhere. . ."

"Harm's office, sir?" Jason asked, suddenly looking very. . .guilty? AJ looked at him puzzled, not sure why the young man would feel guilt over Harm's situation at all.

"Is that a problem?"

"Uh, no sir," Jason faltered slightly, then regained his composure. "Not a problem at all."

AJ nodded and finished up, " Now don't expect to work big cases right away. . ."

"I didn't expect that at all, sir," Jason smiled knowingly. "In fact, to make things easier, I would prefer some busy work. Just to get back into the swing of things."

* * *

Sturgis, Bud and Mac were all huddled in the breakroom, making their usual coffee and grabbing whatever pastries were available. It was unbearably quiet and neither one of them had talked to each other in excess since Harm went missing. The only time they went into extensive conversation was when they were battling it out in the courtroom or discussing plea bargains. Standing in front of the judge, arguing their cases; it seemed to be the only way they could feel normal. When AJ handed out assignments, they were eager to get started and spent many nights coming up with elaborate schemes and strategies to win their cases.

This habit; this working too much was driving all of them into the ground.

"Uh, Mac," Sturgis piped up. Someone had to be the first. "Any news?"

She looked up and her face seemed to fall. "NCIS handed the case over to their missing persons unit. They still have no leads on the Hanson murder."

"Oh. . .,well, what about your _other_ contact?" Sturgis pried some more.

She looked at him, understanding his curiosity. His need to know what, if anything, was being done to find his best friend was plausible. A quick glance at Bud also indicated that he was just as inquiring too. She stirred the contents of her mug and said uncomfortably, "I haven't spoken to Clay in over two weeks."

Sturgis paused for a moment, feeling strong vibes coming off the Marine Colonel. She was obviously bitter towards her significant other. . .or maybe she dumped Clay? He couldn't tell. What he could tell was he overstepped certain boundaries that shouldn't have been crossed. Now was the time to leave. He just nodded towards the both of them and walked out. Mac and Bud were silent for the next two minutes and 23 seconds that passed.

The awkwardness was too much for Bud. When did this office become so. . .anguished? Everyone here, even before Harm went missing, were just filled with hurt or unhappiness. He needed to escape all of this at least for a few minutes. He cautiously stepped past Mac, but she grabbed his arm. He slowly cranked his head around to see her and she looked. . .different. Maybe hopeful was the word he was looking for. Hope was an emotion that was hard to find at JAG lately.

"Yes, ma'am?" he asked.

"Lieutenant? Would you be willing to bend a few rules to help me out?" she asked him. Her voice was anxious and it scared him a little.

"I guess so, ma'am," he nodded nervously. "Depends what for."

"I think you know what for, Bud," she almost pleaded.

"But you said NCIS and Webb have practically given up," he protested. "Even you, ma'am. . .You haven't mentioned Harm's name in nearly three weeks. You've barely talked to anyone."

This wasn't the first time she had seen Bud like this. It was the same behavior he displayed almost seven months ago, when Harm was a spook. He kept asking if anyone missed him or was there any word about his well-being. This time hadn't been any different. Bud always put on this bumbling, clumsy demeanor and it gave the false impression that he didn't notice things changing. But Bud did notice these things. In his own way, he expressed his concerns by constantly asking. Constantly putting on a brave, yet petrified face. This was why she could trust him to help her.

She put on a shameful face and sighed, "I know, but I'm over it. I need your help decoding something. Please, Bud."

That puppy dog look she gave him was enough and he conceded, "You know I would do anything to help Commander Rabb, ma'am."

"I knew I could count on you," she smiled for the first time in ages. "Meet me at the end of the day and we'll talk about this in more detail."

"Okay, ma'am," Bud returned the smile and watched her walk out. He put on a apprehensive expression, not sure what he just got himself into.

* * *

Jason walked into Harm's vacant office. Most of his stuff was still there. Personal effects and some old case files. AJ had assigned him to go through all of Harm's paperwork, seeing how most of it had been collecting dust for the past few weeks. He set his briefcase on the desk and turned around to find that Jenn was holding some pens, highlighters and other office necessities. She gave him a warm smile and announced, "There you are."

"Yeah, thanks," he said quietly, taking the supplies. He looked around and sighed, "I feel strange taking his office like this."

"It's only temporary, "Jenn quickly told him. "Commander Rabb will be back."

"Right," he smiled at her. She was still thinking positively and he could only admire her for her courage. Suddenly, his cell phone went off and he jumped in surprise. He held up one finger to her, saying to give him one second. He looked at the caller ID and his face paled significantly.

"Tiner?" she asked, wondering if he was okay.

"I have to take this," he produced a smile and motioned for her leave. He seemed. . .overanxious. "I'll call if I need anything."

"Okay, sir," she nodded, but still looked at him bewildered. There was something different about Jason and it wasn't that "officer and a gentleman" appeal she was getting at. She walked out wondering, what was it about Jason Tiner that was making her so uncomfortable?

* * *

Bud made his way through the bullpen and found himself at Mac's office in no time. He had to admit he was excited. If Mac had a lead on Harm's whereabouts or anything, he would be ecstatic. Up until now, he wondered whether or not he was the only one not putting on a stoic, completely robotic front. He wondered whether or not he was the only one burying himself in work. He wondered if he was the only one not sleeping or not eating right. It was silly to think that no one else cared, but at work, Mac, Sturgis, himself and even Jenn seemed content in sticking their heads in law books and never looking up.

Now that Mac wanted him to help her find Harm, he was more than ready. And nervous. He tapped lightly on the doorframe to announce his presence and walked in. She greeted him, while she put her work together and prepared to go home. He closed the door halfway and told her, "I told Harriet I was stopping by your place to work on a case."

"Good," Mac said, not looking up from her desk of clutter. "I assume she didn't ask any questions?"

"Well, you know, after I told her I was just going behind my CO's back to do some top-secret decoding to help find Harm, she understood," Bud said, in which he received a horrified stare from Mac. He chuckled a little and said, "I'm kidding, ma'am."

Mac cracked a smile, realizing how overly paranoid she was becoming. "I knew that."

"So, you really think he's still out there?" Bud asked. The 'nervous, unsure of himself Bud' was making an appearance.

"I really do," she said sincerely, then admitted, "There was one point I was convinced he was gone. It's just, I can't give up on him without trying. He dropped everything for me once. . .I have to do the same for him."

"Understood, ma'am," Bud said with a half smile. "I'm ready to help, if I can."

A knock on the door startled them both and in stepped Jason. He quickly apologized for interrupting and said he could come back, but Mac let him enter. He stepped inside and said, "Hello, ma'am."

"Hey, Ensign," she smiled at him cordially. "How's it feel to be back?"

"Overwhelming," he admitted, while rocking on his feet a little bit. "The Admiral has temporarily put me in the Commander's office. I feel like such. . .a wimp sitting in that chair. I could never be as good as the Commander."

"Don't shortchange yourself, Ensign," Bud encouraged. "I've heard good things about you. I'm sure you're a great lawyer."

"Thank you, sir," Jason smiled, then turned to Mac. "Actually, ma'am, I heard all the details about what happened and I came to check up on you."

"I'm fine, Tiner," she said. "I'm handling it."

"Of course, ma'am," Jason nodded and gave a supportive smile. "Also ma'am, the Admiral wanted me to give this to you." He walked over and handed her an envelope. Her name was handwritten across the front in gold print. Jason and Bud waited as she opened it.

"It's an invitation to a gala in D.C. honoring renowned humanitarian Leslie Dozier on the 20th," she informed them, looking semi-interested. She was also feeling confused as to why she was being invited to such an event. She finished reading it, "The SecNav invited me. _Great._"

"The Admiral says he will be going with you. Attendance is required," Jason told her to complete his message. Then he excused himself.

While a night of boring speeches, free food and jazz music sounded appealing, Mac's stare lingered at the door in curiosity. She commented to Bud, "Tiner is different. . .somehow."

"More grown-up, perhaps?" Bud suggested, nodding in agreement.

"Maybe," she mused, then picked up her things. "We should get going."

**Same Day**

**Mac's Apartment**

**Georgetown**

She made them tea. She wasn't sure why exactly. Possibly for some comfort and warmth. She broke down what she knew about Harm's disappearance. NCIS was convinced the same people who took Hanson were the ones who kidnaped Harm. She left out the major details of the injuries to Hanson's body, but noted they found a piece of paper stuck in his pocket. A note from the organization they believed was responsible for everything.

The Seven.

Bud seemed very nervous that Harm could end up in a trash pile somewhere. He didn't like the fact that this group had already killed two people previously affiliated with Harm directly and indirectly. Mac placed a comforting hand on his and repeated, "I believe he's still alive, Bud. I believe it so much, that it has to be true."

He nodded and said, "Well, I want to help, ma'am."

She pulled out her notes on the conversation she had with Harm. "This is what I need help with, Bud. Somewhere in between these lines is a message for me."

Bud watched as she almost blushed. He scrunched his forehead, wondering why she would be embarrassed. Then he read the conversation in it's entirety. Harm told her he loved her. Yeah, that would be enough reason to blush. She expressed it may not be word-for-word. Halfway through she choked, so to speak. She wrote the rest of it down from memory.

Bud read aloud Harm's words, "I only have a few minutes, Mac. Please, just listen to me very carefully. You sound so beautiful?"

Bud ended that phrase with a question because it was odd. The phrase made no sense. Maybe if it came somewhere down the line, closer to the "I love you", maybe it would make more sense. Bud shook his head and remarked, "He sounds like a desperate husband or fiancé, ma'am. I mean, doesn't he?"

"I know," Mac sighed. "That was the point where I believed he was putting on a show. That he was trying to tell me something else."

Bud continued to read, "Okay, you said 'Harm, tell me you're okay.' And he said, 'Every day of the week that passes by, I realize how stupid I've been.'"

Bud paused again, looking very confused. This patterning of phrases. The use of the language, it was all awkward to read. Saying it out loud wasn't easy. "Every day of the week that passes by" was of particular interest to him. It didn't roll off the tongue. The rest of the conversation seemed to flow, however. Bud read that line again, then gasped, "Wait a minute. . ."

"What?" Mac asked anxiously.

Bud smiled, "This phrase was so awkward, it had to be out of place, ma'am. How many days are there in a week?"

Mac, a little confused by the question, replied, "Seven, why?"

Then the lights turned on. Seven days in a week. The Seven! Either it was a stretch of their imaginations or this was what Harm was trying to say all along! He didn't want her to give up! He was trying to tell her what had happened to him! She jumped up from the table and hugged Bud, "I could kiss you right now, Bud!"

"Thanks, I guess," he smiled widely. After she let him go, he added, "Maybe you should tell NCIS the truth."

"And have Gibbs chew me out for withholding evidence?" Mac asked, then remarked. "No way. I made a conscience decision to keep this to myself for a reason. NCIS can't help me here."

"Well, under the circumstances, ma'am, Harm told you not to say anything," Bud reasoned with her. "You were under emotional distress! Surely, Gibbs can understand why you kept this information from him."

"But for three weeks, Bud? He won't buy it," Mac sighed. "I'm better off pursuing this on my own."

"But Mac!" Bud protested, using her nickname for the first time all day. "You'll be putting your career in jeopardy!"

"And you won't tell anyone, Bud," she pleaded. "Promise me you'll keep this to yourself."

Before Bud could promise anything, there was a knock on the apartment door. She and Bud quickly covered up what they were working on. Once it was clear, she opened the door. She stepped back surprised and greeted her visitor, "Sir? What brings you by?"

AJ stepped in wearing civilian attire. His face looking more tired than usual. He spotted Bud and gave a questioning look. Mac piped up and lied, "He's helping me with a case, sir."

Thankfully, AJ didn't seem interested enough to ask which case they were working on. Instead, he shrugged it off, rubbed his hands together and said, "Hey, Mac. Have you seen the latest news reports?"

"No, sir, I haven't," Mac responded, fearing the worse. Was there bad news about Harm?

AJ sighed and relayed the news report, "While being transferred to a high security, military prison, Clark Palmer's transport was attacked and blasted to pieces. They sifted through the rubble to determine if Palmer was dead or alive. His body was never found."

"He escaped," Mac gasped, hugging herself with her arms. As if Harm and The Seven weren't enough to trouble her at night. Palmer possibly being on the loose was not good either. "Are you sure they didn't find his body?"

"I personally called in myself," AJ confirmed begrudgingly. "Palmer's body was not there."

"Uh, Ma'am? Sir?" Bud made his presence know and stood up. "Isn't it a little strange that Commander Rabb goes missing and then Clark Palmer also goes missing as well?"

"No, it's not strange, Bud, " AJ sighed heavily, shaking his head. "Something deeper is going on here."

To be continued. . .


	12. Tell Him She's Safe

Disclaimer: not mine

**The Seven**

by e-dog

Chapter Twelve

"Tell Him She's Safe"

**April 15, 2004**

**APO Headquarters**

**Somewhere in Los Angeles**

Clayton Webb was sitting on a bench at the train station, his cell phone attached to his ear. He listened with worry as she relayed her thoughts and feelings about him. They weren't promising and he was having a hard time cutting her off. She was on a roll and it was making his head spin. She kept saying he was never there when she needed him. She was sick of the alcohol and sick of his constant lying of his whereabouts. She was making valid points and it was hard for him to swallow.

At last, it sounded as if she were going to officially break them up. He had to stop her. He finally cut her off rudely and said, "Hey, maybe we should wait until we're in person to talk about this. I think you're jumping to. . ."

"Clay, I feel trapped," Mac sighed, then added sternly. "I _don't_ like feeling trapped."

"I'm sorry I'm making you feel that way, Sarah," he said sincerely. "I really am. You have to believe me."

He could tell by her silence she believed him. The question was, how long would she tolerate him? He won the battle this time, but the war had just begun. The next time they spoke would be interesting, to say the least. She spoke up and asked, "Where are you, again?"

"Germany," he lied, then tried to amend the lie by adding a little bit of truth. "A train station to be exact."

"Oh," she sighed, now sounding unsure of him again. "Are you safe?"

"Very safe, I promise," he told her. "Are you okay? I miss you. . ."

She effectively avoided his mention of affection and admitted, "I'm very angry with myself because I lost my Marine Corps ring somehow. I don't know how. I never take it off. . ."

"Really?" he asked, not too concerned. His hand absentmindedly reached into his pocket. His fingers could feel the cool metal as he traced the outlines of her ring. She was going to kill him if she ever found out that he took it. She might be even more pissed if she found out _how _he took it. He stated confidently and smoothly, "I'm sure it'll turn up."

She paused then added apprehensively, "Yeah, and actually, I've been getting this strange feeling that I'm being watched."

"_Really?_" he asked, now very concerned. "Have you seen anyone following you?"

"Not exactly," she said, with another long sigh. "I think I'm just being paranoid. . .again."

"Well, um, try to keep acting normal," Clay told her, his voice now very distressed. "If someone is watching you, you don't want to let on that you know."

"You know something, don't you?" she asked. "You know who's following me?"

"Hey, I didn't say anyone was following you," he reminded her. "You did and all I'm saying is if. . ."

"If? Clay, for once I wish I could get a straight answer from you!" she said in frustration. Then her next question sent a nail through his heart. "If you knew where Harm was, would you tell me?"

"Uh. . .," he mumbled, not knowing how to answer. The cell phone suddenly felt like a weight in his hands and he wanted to hang up and end this conversation now. He waited too long to formulate a concrete response.

She sighed, "Look, I'm late for work. Tiner came back to JAG yesterday and he will need someone to help him deal with Harm's unorganized paperwork. Bye."

She hung up abruptly. He turned off his cell phone as well and thought to himself, late for work? She was never late for anything. If she was going to lie, she could at least make it a real lie. Wait. . .listen to that! He was complaining about Mac lying to him! He stood up and made his way to his new duty station. He griped to himself, "Way to be a hypocrite, Clay."

He walked down the abandoned, darker train tunnel and approached an old door that displayed a rusty "Authorized Personnel Only" sign on the front. He swiped his card and the old door opened with a soft creak. The door shut behind him with a click signaling it was locked again. He was now in a small room, lined with pipes and levers. He pulled and turned the necessary levers and knobs to gain access to APO. The secret passageway opened and he was inside.

Clay stuck the official name tag on his chest. It took a lot of begging, but Sloane finally orchestrated his entrance into the Black Ops world. This division of the CIA was so secret, not even his old boss Kershaw knew about it. As far as Kershaw knew, Clay was on special assignment to Germany by order of the Director. He could be in "Germany" for an indefinite amount of time.

He strolled into APO Headquarters with a ton of confidence, until he spotted Jack Bristow. Clay paused his walking, seemingly frozen in place by Jack's stare. He broke from the glare and continued on to Sloane's office. He needed to stay away from Jack as much as possible. Before he could get there, Sloane walked out and smiled, "I see you're right on time."

"For what?" Clay asked.

"There have been recent developments in Giacomo's activity," Sloane informed him and motioned for him to follow. "We think the disk drive has been moved to another location. A safe house, if you will."

"You think The Seven are already there?" Clay asked, hoping they didn't miss their opportunity on rescuing Harm.

"The Seven haven't moved that quickly," Sloane replied, sounding confident in this uninformed opinion. "Remember Mr. Webb, I used to be a person who thinks just like The Seven do. They want that disk drive badly, but there is always a grace period. Always a period where they have to plan their strategy before acting on their wants and desires."

"Understood, sir," Clay nodded as they approached the conference room. He stopped Sloane and added, "But that grace period could range anywhere from ten hours to 1 day. That's not a lot of time."

"No, it isn't," Sloane agreed with one of those quirky smiles. They finally entered the conference room where Clay spotted the whole team. Vaughn, Sydney, Jack, Dixon, and Marshall. Marshall had a much more friendly expression on his face today and even waved to him. Clay waved back, but the rest of the team was all business. They all wore their poker faces, still trying to figure him out. Clay took a seat near the other end of the table, keeping his distance.

Sloane took charge of the meeting, "As you all know, Paulo Giacomo is in possession of a crucial device. It can read a disk capable of spreading a worm across multiple networks. We all know the consequences of what could happen if it ends up in the wrong hands."

"So, what's the plan?" Sydney asked.

"Marshall, could you bring up the images please," Sloane requested, then continued, "Giacomo owns a suite at The Cristallo Hotel. He is known for doing a lot of business there and he also hides his most precious cargo in a safe built into the wall. Our first objective will be to survey. If Rabb shows up, then it's okay to assume he's there for the device. Sydney will follow him, subdue Rabb, sabotage the device then tell Rabb to take the device back to his employers."

"So, we're not extracting him?" Vaughn asked confused. "Wouldn't it be better that way?"

Then Clay came in, "I was talking to Colonel Mackenzie briefly on the phone earlier and she expressed some concerns to me. One being she felt she was being watched all the time. I know it's just a feeling, but she has a sixth sense about these kind of things. If we extract Rabb, we could be risking the lives of his loved ones as well."

"Or _your_ loved one," Jack commented, loud enough for everyone to hear.

"Jack," Sloane warned him.

"How do we know this plan wasn't concocted to benefit you?" Jack pushed some more.

"Because I came up with the plan," Sloane said strongly, indicating Clay had no involvement whatsoever. He eyed Jack one last time, then finished his thought. "Even if Mr. Webb's sole purpose was to protect Colonel Mackenzie, I have to agree with him. We are under the assumption that Rabb is working for these people against his will. The only way they could force him to commit these crimes is to threaten to kill someone near and dear to his heart."

"Isn't this a bit risky?" Dixon expressed his concerns for the first time. "How can we know he'll be alone? Or that he isn't wired?"

"That's where I come in," Marshall said, standing up. He held up a pair of sunglasses. "These super fly babies are really, really cool. You stick them on and tap once right here. You have now activated a thermo-sensor which will detect heat patterns within a 50 foot radius." He then proceeded to demonstrate and looked directly at Sydney, "And Ms. Bristow is smoking!"

Sydney gave a shy smile, while the others looked mildly amused by Marshall's banter.

"The point is, this device is not only for seeking out human heat," Sloane cut in. "It will also pick up any traces of heat coming off an electronic device, no matter how big or small. If Mr. Rabb were wired, we would know using these."

"The only problem is, since this device is so sensitive, it still has a few bugs to be worked out," Marshall added, looking embarrassed. "I just built this last night, actually, and well. . .let's just say if you leave it on too long, it could explode." Marshall gave an uneasy chuckle, as he looked out at the group. They stared back at him, some highly entertained while others were highly annoyed. He gave one last grin and sat down, finished with his presentation.

"Okay, assuming all goes well, what do I say to him after sabotaging the drive?" Sydney pointed out. "Welcome to the CIA again, you're now a double agent? What if he doesn't go for that?"

"He will," Clay chimed in, sounding very confident, but he could see the rest were still doubtful. If they knew Harm like he knew Harm, they wouldn't waste any time questioning his loyalty.

"Why doesn't Mr. Webb go?" Vaughn suggested. "Rabb knows him personally. It might be easier if he sees a friendly face."

"That might not be a good idea," Clay admitted reluctantly. "That last mission in Paraguay, we ended on some bad terms. Seeing me might make him turn away. . .It'll be more convincing coming from Ms. Bristow."

"I agree," Sloane said, before anyone could object. "We're running low on time, so get packed. Vaughn, Sydney, Dixon. . .You leave in 30 minutes."

The group disbanded and Clay quickly made his way over to Sydney's desk. He grabbed her attention and told her, "You can trust me. We're on the same side."

"I'm having a hard time believing that," she replied, then asked him. "How is it we know nothing about you? What's your real agenda? You have to admit, you look very untrustworthy right now."

He listened to her and studied her. Her hostility wasn't as forceful or as outright as her father's. This was something he could work with. He cleared his throat, "Harm is a good man, Sydney. He's got an adopted daughter at home. Her name is Mattie. She's worried sick about him. She's been forced back into her father's home, a man she doesn't want to be with. . ."

"Don't appeal to my emotions, Mr. Webb," she warned and started gathering her personal items from her desk. "I'm following orders and praying your intel on Mr. Rabb is accurate. I don't want any surprises."

Clay pulled out his last hope and handed her a Marine Corps ring on a chain. He repeated, "Harm is a good man and an honorable officer. Give him this ring. Tell him that you know me and that Sarah Mackenzie is safe. Once you say that, he'll listen to you."

Sydney took the ring and asked him, "Who does this belong to?"

"The Colonel," he told her, guilt washing over his face briefly. "I stole it from her. I know it's the only way Harm will believe you. He needs to see something familiar. Something that belongs to her."

"I thought you said the Colonel felt threatened," Sydney reminded him, holding up the ring for Clay to see. "I would be lying if I said she was safe."

"I'll be protecting her," Clay said, sounding somewhat chauvinistic. "Just tell him and he'll listen to you."

Sydney studied the ring for a few more seconds, before pocketing it. She nodded a goodbye to Clay and brushed past him to leave. He watched her go, also seeing Vaughn and Dixon on her trail. He had heard they were the best team in the CIA. If anyone could convince Harm to become a double agent, Sydney Bristow was the woman who could do it.

**April 15, 2004**

**Milan, Italy**

**The Cristallo Hotel**

The Cristallo Hotel was a splendid and stunning hotel right in the heart of the city. Outside, down the street on the corner, Dixon was at the telephone booth flipping through the pages of the book. He had been periodically making his rounds around the block for the last 15 minutes. Eventually, he would go inside to change up his pattern of behavior. After one more sweep of the street, he decided it was time to move again.

Then he spotted him.

A grey van door opened and out hopped Harmon Rabb. He was almost unrecognizable because his hair was dyed a medium shade of brown as opposed to the really dark brown in his service photo. Sunglasses on his face and sandals on his feet. It was a very relaxed look. It was also very confident. Dixon picked up the phone in the booth, pretending to make a call. He reported, "He's here. Brown hair, sunglasses. Possibly an accomplice in the van."

"Roger that," Vaughn replied, resting in the lobby. He had planted himself in a soft chair, reading a newspaper. A few seconds later, he saw Harm walk in. He wore sunglasses with a blue tint (just like Dixon said), a tan suit, and he donned a smile that would make ice melt. He was obviously going for a look that would charm the ladies. Harm went up to the receptionist desk and Vaughn took this time to try out Marshall's thermo-sensing glasses. He hit the activation button and looked at Harm. Vaughn spoke into his two-way and relayed his findings to Sydney, "Okay, Phoenix. According to these glasses, he's clean. No wires."

"Got it," Sydney replied.

Harm was using his charm on the receptionist, smiling his face off and doing a few overly macho moves. Stuff like posing to show off his biceps and using big words to show off his intellect. If he was going for cocky, he was doing a good job. Finally, he received a room key and made his way for the elevators. On the way there, he winked at another beautiful Italian girl. He was close enough for Vaughn to make out what he said:

"Stop, drop and roll now, cuz baby you're on fire!"

The woman seemed to understand what he said, but instead of being offended. . . she smiled! Vaughn shook his head in amazement and chuckled at how charismatic this guy was! Vaughn couldn't think of anyone else who could pull off a pick up line like that!

"What's so funny?" asked Sydney.

"Nothing. He's going for the elevators. Stay alert," Vaughn informed her and stood up. "See you at the extraction point and be careful. Shot Gun out." Vaughn terminated his transmission and stood up to leave. He caught his last look of Harm before the elevators closed.

----------------------

Harm stepped onto the elevator and found he was by himself. Once the doors closed, he lost that stupid smile and hit the appropriate button to reach the correct floor. In a few minutes, he was about to break into Paulo Giacomo's safe and steal the disk drive he was supposed to obtain the first time. He spied his reflection in the mirror-like doors and fixed a stray hair on his head. He couldn't screw up this time. Losing Krennick's trust could ultimately put his friends in danger. It could put Mac in danger.

The door's opened and he quickly exited. It was time to get to work. He walked all the way to the end of the hall and reached the appropriate door. A guard was standing there and he immediately held up a hand to stop Harm. He yelled, "Arresto!"

"Hey, man, I just want to find a bathroom," Harm slurred, sounding like he was intoxicated. The guard was going to grab his arm, but Harm blocked the move. He punched the guard in his stomach, then slammed his head against the wall. He watched the man slide down the wall, unconscious. Harm kneeled down and sighed to himself, "What have you become, Harm?"

Snapping out his guilt, he reminded himself why he was here. With the guard subdued, Harm perused the pockets for the key to the room.

He found it. With the stolen key he entered Giacomo's hotel room, dragging the body of the unconscious guard in with him. . .

---------------------

Sydney poked her head around the corner. She arrived just in time to see Harm drag the guard's body into the room and shut the door. She checked the hall for anyone else and made her way to the room. She was dressed as a cleaning woman, so her presence was going unnoticed. When she approached, she realized Harm left the door ajar. She slipped inside, listening carefully for any sounds. It was deadly quiet. On the floor was the subdued guard, his hands already bound behind him. Harm was working fast for a "rookie" agent. She peeked into the bedroom where the safe was located, but she didn't see Harm. He couldn't have opened it that quickly. Something was wrong. . .

Then she heard the sound of the safety on a gun coming unlatched. She froze in her tracks. The cold barrel pushed up against her neck. She heard his shaky voice say, "Who the hell are you? Why do I keep seeing you everywhere I go?"

"I'm a friend," she said cautiously, her eyes looking for anything in the room to use as a weapon.

"Like hell you are," Harm said, sounding more aggressive.

"It's the truth," she tried again, slowly raising her hands in the air to show she wasn't armed.

She felt the gun leave her skin, but she knew he wasn't complying with her yet. Anticipating an attack, she whirled around to keep Harm from hitting her. She blocked his assault, grabbed his arm and pushed him backwards. He looked shocked at her quickness and tried to regain control, but it was too late.

She tripped him up, sending him to the floor. She then proceeded to bang his hand against the coffee table, which eventually knocked the gun out of his hand. He tried swinging at her with his other fist, but she avoided that hit as well. She effectively flipped him over onto his stomach and straddled him. Sydney finally twisted Harm's arm behind his back, causing him to cry out in pain. She repeated calmly, "I'm a friend and we don't have much time."

"What do you want from me?" he said, through clenched teeth.

"My name is Sydney Bristow. I'm here on behalf of Clayton Webb."

"Clay?" he gasped. His voice sounded relieved and apprehensive all at the same time.

"Now listen to me carefully," she told Harm. "Sarah Mackenzie is safe for now, but if you don't cooperate with me, that could all change."

"She's safe? Mac is okay?" he asked, now very interested in what she had to say.

"Yes."

"Prove it."

Sydney produced the Marine Corps ring on a chain and dangled it so he could see it clearly. She felt all tension in his body leave him as he stared at it wide-eyed. He finally said quietly, "I'll cooperate."

Sydney was reluctant at first, but she finally released her hold on Harm. She rose to her feet first, then Harm did the same. He shook his head and asked again, "How do you know she's safe?"

"I know because she isn't dead," Sydney said, her voice showing her urgency.

"Okay, fine," Harm said, now looking slightly irritated. "I'm sure you didn't track me down to tell me that."

"No, I didn't," Sydney said, walking into the bedroom. "You need to break into the safe and grab the disk drive. And be quick."

"Then what?" he asked, slowly backing up. She turned around to see he wasn't following her into the bedroom. He was still unsure. It appeared he was about to bolt for the door and make a run for it.

"Harm, listen to me," Sydney rose her hand to stop him. "If you run, you will be effectively destroying any chance we have of stopping The Seven. Colonel Mackenzie's chances. . . Mac's chances of survival are getting slimmer. These people will not think twice about killing her, even if you are loyal. You have to believe me. . ."

His face looked confused, anguished. He then paused, appearing to be thinking. "My partner Trey was ordered to back me up if I've been in here for more than twenty minutes. Whatever you want me to do. . . we need to do it now."

Within minutes, Harm had cracked into the safe and handed the cargo over to Sydney. She produced a pseudo disk and inserted it into the disk drive. He watched as lights blinked on the device, then went out. He stared at her, "What happened?"

"This disk just destroyed all the circuitry," Sydney explained, handing the useless disk drive back to him. "Whatever your employer was going to use that for, they will find it ineffective. Now you have to go."

"Wait, aren't you going to track me?" Harm asked, sounding desperate now. "Can't you take me with you?"

"Extracting you is too risky, I'm sorry," Sydney told him, suddenly feeling very sympathetic. Harmon Rabb was an honorable man, just like Clayton described him to be. He was caught up in all this nonsense and she couldn't pull him out. She quickly regained her composure and pulled out a business card, "You have to find some way to call this number. A CIA agent will be on the other end and he will ask you to identify yourself. Your ID number is 012084. Got it?"

"But. . .I can't keep doing this," Harm pleaded. "You have to. . ."

"Focus, Harm. Don't back out now," she pushed. "You remember the number?"

"012084," he repeated somberly. "I got it."

Before the matter could be discussed any further, there was the sound of a key unlocking the door. Harm looked at her alarmed and announced quietly, "It's Trey."

Sydney caught Harm's eyes. She sensed he was sorry, but sorry for what? She found out quickly when he smacked her across the temple. She hit the ground, knocked out cold.

---------------------

**APO Private Jet**

**12,000 ft**

**Somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean**

"Sydney?"

The voice was familiar but distant. Her head was throbbing and it hurt to move. She slowly opened her eyes to find Vaughn gazing down at her. His smile flooded her vision as he said calmly, "Hey."

"Hey," she said very groggily back. "Wh– What happened?"

"We're on our way back to Los Angeles," he explained, applying an ice pack to her head. "We found you knocked out on the floor in Giacomo's hotel room. Rabb was already gone and so was the disk drive."

Sydney sat up and slowly started to remember what happened, "His partner, Trey. He showed up, then Harm struck me. I thought he was going to expose me. . ."

"Trey?" Vaughn repeated. He shook his head and said, "We never saw him. I'm sorry we couldn't back you up."

She just nodded and held the ice pack herself. Vaughn remained by her side, his eyes giving off such warmth and concern. She began to wonder how she was able to live without him in the past. Their relationship over the last year had been strange and uncomfortable. She was glad things had turned around. She was glad that he was here with her now. She leaned into him, his arm wrapping around her. For a few moments, the world disappeared. She began to wish that she could stay this way forever and she could tell Vaughn felt the same way. Dixon came in from the back, disrupting the peace for a moment and he expressed he was happy she was okay. She smiled at him and he hugged her. He offered, "Need anything?"

"I'm fine," she promised and watched Dixon take a seat near the front of the plane.

Vaughn finally fixed his gaze on her again and said, "Syd, we still need to know. Did you sabotage the disk drive? Does Rabb know what to do?"

"I completed the mission, but whether Harm calls or not is his decision," Sydney sighed, rubbing the bump on her temple. She spied Vaughn staring at her with a worried expression. She scrunched her forehead and asked, "What?"

"Are you sure about him?" he asked. "Is he the way Webb described?"

"Clay told me to tell him that Sarah Mackenzie was safe," she recalled. "When I told him that, the look of relief on his face nearly knocked me over. He looked tormented, Vaughn."

Vaughn caressed her shoulder in reassurance. Sydney was usually a good judge of character. If she felt Harm was a good guy, he would believe her. He softly vowed to her, "We'll get him out of this. . .somehow."

To be continued. . .


	13. Prevarication

Disclaimer: not mine

Author's Note: Well, RL has finally given me a break. Here's the next part. I would review Chapters 9 and 11 since it's been a little while. Thanks for the feedback everyone!

**The Seven**

by e-dog

Chapter Thirteen

"Prevarication"

**April 16, 2004**

**Jason Tiner's Apartment**

**Fredricksburg**

The Fredricksburg landscape consisted of a mix of rolling, green hills and major construction. There was the development of new shopping malls, apartments, etc. going on all around them. Jenn followed Jason up the flight of stairs to his new apartment. He needed assistance moving in the last of his belongings and he had asked her, hoping she would help him. She wholeheartedly agreed, but tried to keep her excitement to help very subtle.

She would never let him know how much she missed having him around at the office. When they first met, she considered Jason to be immature and not up to her standards. In her past criminal lifestyle, she was used to dating boys who were rugged and strong. Unfortunately, those boys were also self-centered and complete morons.

Jason was different. He was sweet, kind and very childlike. His whimsical stares, the soft tone of voice he used when speaking. . . She used to think there would be no other man who could sweep her off her feet like Commander Rabb had. Jason changed that. However, her old personality wouldn't let her fall for the innocent, young man. He simply wasn't her type.

A whole year later, she realized how naive she had been. The way he walked into JAG surprised her. The way his newly pressed dress blues hugged his body put him in a different light. She was falling for him all over again.

"Well, that's the last of it," Jason announced, setting a box on the couch. He turned to her and smiled, "Thanks."

"No problem, sir," she smiled back.

"C'mon, Jenn. I'm Jason, remember?" he laughed, nervously running a hand through his hair. "You don't have to call me 'sir' outside of the office."

"I'm sorry, sir, it won't happen again," she teased, letting a girly laugh escape her. She caught herself getting too wrapped up in his boyish charm again and turned away to avoid making eye contact.

"So, uh, would you like to stay for dinner?" he suggested sheepishly. "I really don't know how else to thank you for your help."

"Dinner?" she asked, her eyes becoming very large. She twiddled her thumbs and said shyly, "I've had my share of dealing with officers in my chain of command and the precarious implications that could follow. . .dinner may not be a good idea. . ."

Jason nodded, knowing she was referring to Harm and their living arrangements. Up until Harm's disappearance, no one had questioned the layout of their agreement. Harm was helping with Jenn's rent while she provided help with Mattie. Everyone knew it was completely innocuous. Even still, he could see Jenn was apprehensive of getting too close to another officer. It amazed him how quickly rank changed everything.

He just shrugged and said, "We're just friends enjoying each other's company, Jenn. There's nothing wrong with that. Unless, you were thinking something else. . ."

He was leering in her direction, suggesting something more than friends was being discussed. She quickly told him,"No, I wasn't thinking that at all. . .sir. Dinner sounds great."

"Great," he smiled at her, then they both heard his cell phone ring. He looked at it sitting on the coffee table, the screen blinking a soft green light. He walked over to it and picked it up. Just like a couple of days ago, his face paled at the sight of the caller. He looked at her, putting on a fake expression of warmth and said, "I have to take this. Excuse me for one moment."

"Sure," she nodded, taking a seat on the couch. She added playfully, "You're a very popular guy."

"I guess I am," he flashed a grin at her, before shutting his bedroom door for privacy. Jenn, the ever curious one, tiptoed up to the door to try and listen. Jason was acting too peculiar for his own good. . .

After making sure his bedroom door was shut and secure, Jason flipped open his phone and said in a hushed whisper, "I thought we were through."

A distorted, dark voice answered him. It told him, "The Colonel is at a coffee shop on Fifth Street. Go check it out."

"I already told you what I know," Jason insisted. "I won't spy for you anymore."

"Does that Petty Officer in the room next to you mean anything to you?" It asked.

Jason's eyes widened in alarm. This wouldn't be the first time they threatened to hurt someone close to him. He hastily ran to his window, looking out, searching for whoever was watching them. He angrily demanded, "Where are you?"

"That's not the point. The point is, you're still working for us."

"No, no, I can't," Jason pleaded into the phone. "Please, leave her alone. She doesn't need to be involved. . ."

The voice on the other end wasn't hearing any of Jason's pleas. The order came across the line one last time, "Go to the coffee shop. I'll call with further instructions."

The line went dead as Jason snapped his phone shut in frustration. He thought moving here, starting his life over at JAG would rid him of the darkness that had found him. Whatever they wanted, they still didn't have. Whatever questions they wanted answered, they believed Mac had the solutions.

Jason slowly walked back to the door and opened it. She was sitting on the couch, looking at a picture of his mother. He was going to cancel dinner, but then decided he didn't want her out of his sight just yet. They were watching him. They knew about Jenn and now she was in danger too. So he smiled and reluctantly suggested, "I really don't have much here to eat. Want to go out?"

"Sure," Jenn shrugged, then asked innocently. "Important call?"

"Were you listening?" he asked immediately. His face looking very disturbed.

"No," she said, sounding startled by his behavior.

His face softened and he realized he was acting very suspicious. He finally responded, "I'm sorry. Things have been stressful with getting the new duty station and moving, that's all. The call was nothing."

"Oh," Jenn responded, giving him an a stare of obvious worry. He offered her his hand and she took it. He pulled her up off the couch and the Jason she knew and loved was back. As they were walking to the door, he tripped on the rug and slammed into the wall, banging his head quite hard. She gasped, putting a hand over her mouth and exclaimed, "Jason! Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, it's my pride that hurts the most," he mumbled, slowly rising to his feet. He looked at her shamefaced. "I guess they didn't teach me how to walk back at OCS."

"I guess not," she laughed with him. She paused watching him walk out the door. His up and down behavior puzzled her. Sometimes he was normal and other times he appeared scared out of his mind. She couldn't make out anything he was saying on the phone, but his muffled tone of voice was frantic. If something was wrong, he would tell her, right?

**Same Day**

**Local Coffee Shop**

As if barging into her place to have dinner wasn't enough, Kate had once again forced her way into Mac's life. She arrived at her apartment door, looking completely innocuous and insisted Mac join her for a trip into the city. She knew this fabulous coffee shop and Mac _had_ to try it out. Thankfully, Tony had a date and didn't wiggle his way into tagging along. It would be just the two of them.

The ride there was quiet, with soft jazz playing through the speakers. Kate would occasionally tell her about random happenings in her life. Trying to appeal to something Mac could relate to, she revealed that she attended law school before dropping out and starting her career as a Federal Agent. She also added that she first worked for the Secret Service before getting the job at NCIS. By the time they reached the coffee shop, Mac had pretty much heard the NCIS agent's entire biography. During all of Kate's rambling, Mac plastered a semi-interested smile on her face and interjected with the occasional "Mmhmm" and "Oh really?".

They found a booth in a corner, surrounded by windows. It was warm and it smelled of cinnamon. Mac smiled and closed her eyes, taking in the intimacy and friendly atmosphere this shop had. Kate was right. This place was perfect to get away and get lost in your thoughts. Their orders were ready and they got up to retrieve them. Kate had a café mocha while Mac simply went with an herbal tea.

Mac sighed into her mug, the warm liquid soothing her inside and out. "This is wonderful."

"I told you it was," Kate smiled, glad to see Mac actively participating in the conversation for the first time. She was beginning to wonder if Mac was really going to allow her to talk the entire time.

Mac set her mug down, her two hands clasping it tightly. She stared wistfully out the window, watching the flow of traffic and people pass by. Kate watched her intently, sensing she was keeping something to herself. "Hey, are you okay?"

"I've been better," Mac admitted, sipping her tea gingerly.

"You're thinking about him?" Kate asked knowingly.

"Am I that obvious?" Mac chuckled uneasily. Kate nodded yes and Mac just shook her head as if she were confused. "I can't help but wonder. . ."

"Wonder what?" Kate inquired, seeing the dreamy look taking over the Colonel's expression.

"Nothing," Mac said, suddenly back to the stoic Marine mode she was so good at pulling off.

"You love him," Kate said quietly. Mac's eyes darted up from her cup and caught the other woman's stare. She made the statement as if she were realizing a most obvious matter. She seemed to almost have a sense of awe and admiration written on the features in her face as well. Mac turned her head away, not needing to see Kate or hear anything further on that topic. Kate wouldn't let it go that easily, "You love him, right?"

Mac played with her mug and refused to look her in the eyes. "I do."

"Then why did you pull yourself away from the case?" Kate asked now with frustration coming across in her tone.

Mac remained firm and stuck to her story, "The burden at work was too much for my other co-workers to bear. . ."

"No, no way," Kate leaned forward, her hand shooting across the table to grab Mac's. She squeezed it lightly in reassurance and said softly, "What was the real reason? Why did you give up on him?"

Mac remained firm. "I would never give up on him, Kate."

"Then why did you?" Kate asked again. "Stop dancing around the answer and just tell me."

Mac stared at her and slowly pulled her hand out of Kate's grasp. Her silence was speaking volumes, but she couldn't think of anything that would make this situation better. In mere seconds, she could tell Kate knew her secret. The look on her face said so. Mac looked away just as Kate asked her, "Are you looking for Harm by yourself?"

Mac remained quiet.

"Mac? Did you hear me? If you go after him with no help . . ."

The little bell on the main entrance of the coffee shop rang, effectively ending the conversation. And much to her dismay, in walked Clay. Mac looked down at the table quickly, but he spotted her anyway. He walked over and nodded hello to Kate, who looked at him with a wary eye. Mac looked up finally and said, "Kate, this is Clayton Webb. Clay this is Kate Todd."

Clay took note that Mac forgot to mention their relationship status. Okay, if she wanted to play hardball, then he could fight fire with fire. He extended his hand to greet Kate and announced, "Nice to meet you. I'm the boyfriend."

Mac shot a glare in his direction, but he ignored it. Kate simply shook his hand, confused. If Mac loved Harm, then why was she with Clay? Kate smiled and said cautiously, "Nice to meet you."

"Do you mind if I take Mac outside for a moment? It won't take long," Clay asked politely. He was being very much the gentleman and this irked Mac beyond belief. He was putting on a show. Acting and charming his way into getting Kate to trust him. Just like he had done with her back in Paraguay. Clay gently took hold of her arm to lift her up and forced her to follow him out the door.

Kate sighed, not liking what she knew she had to do. She pulled out her cell, looking out the window to make sure the couple outside wouldn't see her. She dialed a number and waited. "Hey, Gibbs. . . Look, there's something you should know about Mac . . ."

--------------------------

Once outside, Mac spat at him, "Why are you following me?"

"To protect you," he said, getting just as snippy. "You told me you felt like you were being followed."

"Well, now I know it was _you _doing the following!" Mac hissed and went for the door. This time, he grabbed her more forcefully and yanked her back. Her eyes flamed up and she growled, "Let go of me, Clay."

"You need to understand, I'm not giving up on us," Clay told her sincerely. His eyes were glowing with desperation. "I only want you to be happy."

"Just for the record, I'm very unhappy right now," she said, trying to stay polite but her voice was forbidding.

"Okay, fine," Clay sighed, finally letting go of her arm. He straightened out his suit jacket and said softly, "Harm is alive."

She finally dropped the attitude and gave him all of her attention. Yesterday, talking to Clay on the phone, she had to question whether or not he would actually give her any information on Harm. It seemed she had misjudged Clay's loyalty to their mutual friend. She stepped forward and repeated in a raspy whisper, "He's alive?"

"Yes," Clay answered her. "We don't know where he is yet. There are agents trying to locate him now."

He watched as she shut her eyes in relief. Her hand covered her mouth, trying to suppress any unwanted whimpers of joy from escaping. Clay timidly stepped closer to her and pulled her in for a hug. Slowly, her arms wrapped around him, accepting the embrace. He became extremely comfortable holding her like this and he kissed her hair. The hug was familiar and reminiscent of how their relationship was a year ago. It felt so right to him. Couldn't she feel it too?

His hand rubbed her back in a comforting manner. He heard her whisper, "Thank you for telling me."

"You're welcome." As much as he wanted to continue maintaining this degree of closeness, he had to finish his statement. He told her quietly, "There's more."

She pulled back from him, her moist eyes looking at him curiously. She feared the worst and asked, "Harm. . .he can't come back, can he?"

"No, no, we believe we can extract him," Clay said in a reassuring manner. "It's just. . .he's working for an organization that specializes in domestic and international terrorism. . ."

"The Seven?" asked Mac, cutting him off.

"Uh, yeah. How do you know about them?" he asked, caught off guard.

"Agent Gibbs came across a note on Hanson's body. The note was signed by The Seven," she explained with a heavy heart. "I just assumed Harm was also being held by The Seven as well. You just confirmed that."

"Ma'am!" came the shout of a familiar voice behind her. Mac turned around and Clay looked past her to see Jason and Jenn walking up towards them. Mac turned back to Clay and he quickly promised, "We'll finish this later."

Once Jenn was right up on them, Mac flashed a smile and said surprised, "Coates? What brings you by?"

"I helped Jason...er, uh the Ensign move into his new apartment today," Jenn said, correcting herself halfway through the statement. She finished abruptly, "He's treating me to dinner. It's his way of thanking me."

"I see," Mac smiled wider and nodded her hello in the direction of Jason. He smiled back, then spotted Clay for the first time. His face seemed to darken, letting his disapproval of Clay's presence be known. Mac noticed Jason seemed upset by Clay and she could only wonder why. What could Clay have possibly done to Jason? Either way, she saw this as her opportunity to get rid of him. While she appreciated the news on Harm, she didn't want him around for the duration of the evening. She clasped her hands together and stated, "Well, you two can join Kate and I. Clay was just leaving."

"I was?" he asked stupidly, then saw her insistent stare. He corrected himself and smiled, "I was. Have a good night."

He promptly leaned in to kiss Mac goodbye. She wasn't quick enough to avoid it and he planted a soft kiss on her cheek. He finally walked away and disappeared around the corner.

Mac could feel herself turning red in embarrassment, shame, fear. She didn't know what to think. She had never been public about her relationship with Clay. For Jenn and Jason to witness any public display of affection seemingly mortified her. She quickly perked up and ordered, "Well, come on inside. It's starting to get a bit chilly out here."

The two women started in, but Jenn noticed Jason wasn't following. "Are you coming?"

"Yeah, sorry, my phone has a message on it," he lied. "I'll be there in a second."

They said okay and he turned around to dial a number on his phone. He waited until he heard a response. "Okay, listen. After I tell you this, you have to promise not to hurt them. . ."

He was cut off, his tormentor explaining there was no room for negotiation. He threatened the life of Jennifer Coates once more to make himself perfectly clear. Jason glanced down the street, hoping to maybe see a sign. Maybe this was one big nightmare and he had yet to wake up. The distorted voice startled him again reminding him that this was real. He mumbled, "I saw her. She was with Clayton Webb. I didn't hear what they were talking about. They stopped talking once we reached them."

"Thanks, Jason. You've been a great help." Then the line went dead. Jason sniffled as he realized he was crying. He was crying out of fear. He was crying because he just betrayed his friends. He wiped a tear away and shut his cell phone. He slowly glanced over his shoulder and spied Mac and Jenn inside sitting at a booth. They were laughing and talking. Having a good time.

He whispered to himself, "Jason, what did you do?"

Once he had cleared his face of any traces of guilt, he turned around and walked into the coffee shop. He shook hands with Kate and joked about random things. He continued on like nothing was wrong. He couldn't bear to tell them the truth.

To be continued. . .


	14. Locke and Key Part 1

Disclaimer: not mine

Author's Note: Heh, it's finally here. My beta gave me the go ahead to post. Thanks, Katie! Review chapters 12 and 13, specifically. You can briefly check the beginning of Chapter 8, but it's not necessary. Chapter 15 should be ready by next week. Thanks for the feedback and enjoy. :)

**The Seven**

by e-dog

Chapter Fourteen

"Locke and Key"

Part One

**April 17, 2004**

**NCIS Headquarters**

Kate sat on the edge of her desk, chewing on her pencil. She had to keep telling herself that she was just doing her job. She glanced over to Tony, who also looked apprehensive; guilty. Telling Gibbs about Mac was difficult, but necessary. Mac had to know she couldn't do this on her own. She couldn't go after Harm by herself. Not to mention, if she was withholding information about Harm's whereabouts she would be impeding a federal investigation.

"Are you sure?" Gibbs asked again. She looked up, unaware he was even speaking.

"Actually," she faltered, then took a deep breath. "She never said it . . . out loud. I just assumed it because she was silent."

"Well, that's just great, Kate," Gibbs said sarcastically, leaning back in her office chair. "I can't go after her unless you're absolutely sure she is going to do this."

Kate sighed. This was more grueling than she had anticipated. Sarah Mackenzie was a hard person to read, even though many of her emotions she wore on her sleeve. Two things were obvious. One: she loved Harm. She even admitted that truth out loud. Two: Her CIA "boyfriend" Clayton Webb was merely a backbone. A support. She was using him to get her information on Harm, but there was no physical way to prove that.

"You know, boss," Tony piped up, trying to help Kate. "The Colonel . . . Mac, she did say something about feeling threatened a week ago." Kate glanced at Tony, unaware he had heard that part of the conversation. For once, he did something right! She turned back to Gibbs, who seem perturbed to be learning this now, however.

"Care to tell me why you never said anything?" He asked, his anger slowly bubbling below the surface.

"Mac never made clear where the threat was coming from, Gibbs," Kate explained and walked over to his desk. "She also made it clear the problem was in the past that it was nothing to dwell on any further. At the time, I believed her and we left it alone."

Gibbs seemed to be understanding as he furrowed his brow in thought. He stood, leaned forward and his eyes caught hers as he asked calmly, "What do you believe now?"

Kate tried to keep eye contact and answered honestly, "I believe she loves him, Gibbs. I think if she's given the opportunity, she will go after him."

"That's all I wanted to hear," he said, standing up and grabbing his cup of coffee and jacket. He brushed past Kate, who looked confused. She asked, "Gibbs? Where are you going?"

"To have a word with a certain Marine Colonel," he replied, then boarded the elevator. Kate glanced at Tony, showing she was concerned for Mac. Whether Mac wanted to admit it or not, Kate felt she was finding a true friend in the troubled Marine Colonel. She suddenly felt like a betrayer. Tony stood up and walked over, giving her a reassuring pat on the back. He was reminding her that she had to tell Gibbs. She was just doing her job.

-----------------------

**April 17, 2004**

**Outside NCIS Headquarters**

He stumbled out of the taxi. His body burned, bruised and battered. He looked up and spotted his destination. He was finally here. These people he could trust. He could talk to them without fear. His legs clumsily moved him forward, pressing him along. He pushed through the glass doors and collapsed before he could reach the guard. He could hear feet running toward him and a strong hand rested on his back. It was a deep voice that told him, "Sir? I'm a security guard. I'm going to call 911."

"No! No!" he shouted, trying to force himself back to his feet. "I must see Agent Gibbs. Tell him my name is Chris Locke!"

Before the security guard could try to dissuade the injured man lying in front of him, he heard the distinctive voice of Gibbs call him. Gibbs approached, holding a cup of coffee and his jacket. His intentions were to leave and visit Colonel Mackenzie. Now the commotion at the door had his undivided attention. He let his eyes fall on the man gazing back up at him from the floor. He recognized the face from old service photos. This was the missing ex-Marine who trained with Mark Daniels!

Gibbs leaned down immediately and said calmly, "We are going to get you medical attention, Agent Locke."

"No time," Locke rasped, still trying to stand.

"I'm sorry, Locke, but your condition requires that I call the paramedics," Gibbs said with sympathy, but he was also firm. Locke watched him as he pulled out his cell phone. Gibbs made solid eye contact with him and promised, "Once you're all patched up, then we'll talk."

It didn't take long for the ambulance to pick Locke up. Tony and Kate had approached just in time to see the paramedics pull off. Kate asked, "It was really Locke?"

"Yep," Gibbs nodded, then looked at them. "Grab your cameras and equipment."

"Why?" Tony asked.

"Locke was possibly tortured by the same men who killed Daniels," Gibbs explained and turned to face them both. "We have to follow them and make sure they don't sanitize him. That man is a walking crime scene."

"What about Mac?" Kate asked.

"She's not important at this time," Gibbs explained, then promised, "But we will talk to her after this."

**Same Day**

**Bethesda Naval Hospital**

Agent Chris Locke was born and raised in Los Angeles.

He loved the wild life as a teenager and wanted his older years to resemble heart stopping thrills as well. That was why he joined the military. He hoped the Marines would lead him on a path to excitement and adventure. Of course, meeting the occasionally exotic princess wouldn't hurt either. He wanted to see the world and live to talk about it.

After being in the service for a few years, he learned quickly there was very little to be excited about unless there was a war being waged somewhere. Most of his time was spent repairing humvees and going to target practice. He needed something more. That was when he turned to Mark Daniels.

Mark was his CO and basic training officer. Despite the years between them, they became good friends. Chris didn't know much about Mark's private life. He was single and had no children. He never mentioned a mother or a father. He seemed rather proud of his bleak family history. Whenever Chris prodded about how Mark's family celebrated holidays, Mark would just shrug and say, "I have two words for you, Chris: Pot Roast."

Even while the mysteries of Mark's past eluded his colleagues, everyone could agree that Mark was like the father they never had. For some, the father they wished they could've had. As a Marine, he was fierce but fair. Crazy but calm. He encompassed all that a Marine should be and so much more as a human being. After Mark had served for ten years and Chris for only three, they both decided they had done all they could for the Marines. They signed up at Langley to join the infamous group of "spooks" in hopes of finding a better purpose in life. To their great fortune, they found exciting missions everyday fighting the evil that plagued not only the United States but everywhere. Finally, Chris could travel the globe and with Mark by his side, the world seemed even more wondrous.

Eight more phenomenal years passed before Harmon Rabb, Jr. joined the team. Chris didn't converse with him much, but what little contact he had with Harm proved to show he was a good man. He could also tell Harm was a lost soul as well. Just like Chris had done all those years ago, Harm attached to Mark for emotional support. For advice and comfort. It pained Chris to admit this, but he felt a pang of jealously whenever Harm and Mark shared a laugh or a drink. Harm even went as far as to affectionately call Mark the "CIA Father Figure" of the Langley offices.

However, no other alliance could compare to that of Chris and Mark.

Chris had served with Mark. Taken orders from Mark. Even rented a room in Mark's two-story house in Richmond, Virginia. They even signed up for Special Ops training at the CIA together. They truly were inseparable. They were best friends.

There was a black mark in their relationship, however. One Chris Locke kept secret and refused to tell anyone about.

Kate wrote all of this down. Her shorthand would be hard to decipher later, but she had to scribble in order to keep up with Chris's carefully worded diction. He only used words that were necessary. He asked legitimate questions about NCIS's operations. His voice was kind. His eyes were even friendlier and his spirits surprisingly chipper when talking about his good friend Mark Daniels.

Then it hit Kate. Maybe Chris didn't know that Mark was dead.

Once Chris had done all of his talking, he was provided with pain killers and some ointment for his burns. He was clad in only his boxers. The room was cool making him shiver slightly. He watched the female agent take photos of his wounded body. The flash accentuated all the abrasions on his pale skin. The slight emergence of rib bones suggested he hadn't been eating well for the last few weeks. Occasionally she would murmur she was sorry and that she was almost done. She sounded flustered. Maybe uncomfortable taking pictures of his nearly naked body. While she snapped photos, the male agent was in the corner going over his clothes, then packaging them into evidence bags. That agent, when finished, walked out. He left Locke feeling bewildered.

He looked at her and asked, "Where are you taking my clothes?"

"To trace," Kate answered him, holding her camera just above her stomach. She was checking the memory card, making sure she had enough room for more pictures. "Once there, our lab technician Abby will go over them with a fine tooth comb and see what evidence was left behind on them."

"I see," Locke nodded, then asked timidly. "What's your name again, miss?"

She paused what she was doing, studying his face. His eyes were droopy and tired, but they also gave off a warmth that drew her in. She could tell it was happening again. She was becoming too attached to the victim, but she couldn't pull away from his somber stare. She finally replied, "It's Caitlin, but everyone calls me Kate."

"Hi, Kate," he smiled. It was a nice smile. She couldn't help but give a soft smile in return.

Her heart sank some, as her eyes swam over his beat, worn down body once again. The burns were circular, just like on Daniels and Hanson. Bruises and abrasions on his arms. The only different thing was he wasn't lying in a ditch somewhere with a gunshot wound to the head. He didn't end up on their slab in the morgue. He escaped somehow.

"I'm finished," she said, snapping out of her apologetic staring. She backed away and heard Locke call her again. She turned back to face him.

"Did. . .did you find Mark?" he asked, as he choked on his words. She could tell he already knew the answer. When she remained silent, he answered his own question, "He's dead."

"Yes, sir, I'm sorry," Kate responded quietly. She put her camera back in its case. "And I'm sorry about the pictures."

"It's fine. It's your job to be thorough," Locke answered her, forcing a small smile. Gibbs walked in then and motioned for Kate to leave. He wanted to speak to Locke alone. She thanked Locke for his cooperation then left the room. Gibbs held up something for Locke to put on. He slowly sat up as Gibbs helped him put on the patient gown. Once his head was through, he collapsed back down into the firm mattress and semi-soft pillows. Gibbs then pulled up the blankets to completely cover him.

"I'm sorry we had to be so invasive, Mr. Locke," Gibbs said, as he took a seat next to the bed.

"Don't worry about it."

"The guard at NCIS told me you asked specifically for me," Gibbs noted and leaned forward. "The thing is, I don't know you."

Locke just chuckled and replied, "I'm CIA, Gibbs. We know everyone. I checked up on you a little while back and liked what I saw. When I finally escaped, I knew you were the right man to call."

"Technically, we don't have jurisdiction, Mr. Locke," Gibbs warned him. "I know at some point your superiors will hunt me down and take all of the work we've done so far."

Chris didn't seem to care about his bit of information. He merely shrugged it off, "I came to you first for a reason, Mr. Gibbs. You were a Marine and you're assiduous. I'm asking to you to work my case. Let me handle the higher-ups."

Gibbs nodded, briefly flashing an impressed and pleased smile. Then he posed a more serious question, "About your escape. Why don't you tell me how that happened. How did you escape and where were you coming from?"

Locke's eyes darkened then and he turned his head away from Gibbs. He coughed a few times, then sighed heavily. "They . . . they wouldn't tell me where we were. They took me from my home. Beat me and knocked me out cold. I woke up in a cold prison cell. Their boss . . . , she came to see me twice."

"She?" Gibbs inquired. This was the second time a "she" had been mentioned in this investigation. "What did she look like?"

"I wouldn't know," Locke said, sounding even more disturbed. "She remained in the shadows. It was so cold, I could see her breath when she talked to me. She taunted me from the dark. Told me that no matter what I did, I was going to die. I asked her why she wanted me dead. She said because I stuck my nose where it didn't belong. Then she left me."

"Is there anything else you can tell me to describe her?" Gibbs asked.

"Her voice. It was deep and raspy," Locke recalled. "It sent chills down my spine."

Gibbs nodded, making a mental note of that. Colonel Mackenzie had expressed hearing a raspy voice at Harm's apartment when she was attacked. They both had to be talking about the same person. With Locke's description, they now knew this woman was also the one in charge. He continued to question, "You still didn't tell me how you escaped."

"They stuck me in a room and shocked me. They kept asking me what I knew about their organization. I told them I knew nothing. I told them our mission literally blew out from under us before we could gain Intel. They continued to shock me anyway. After they left me alone for a week, she made her second visit. She remained hidden. Even if she had stepped into the light, I'm not sure I would've been able to make her out. My body was so weak, seeing and hearing was becoming more difficult. They dragged me back into that damn room and hooked up the electrodes. Then they revealed . . . Harmon Rabb."

"Rabb?" Gibbs perked up at this.

"He was tied to a chair, sitting at the end of the room. He looked tired, but he was obviously given better care than I. They told him if he didn't join, they were going to kill me. Harm only did as he was trained to do. He told them no. Then they shocked me, repeatedly. I really thought I was going to die, then Harm finally begged them to stop. He told them he would join. He works for them now. He saved my life." Locke wanted to take a break, requesting some water. Gibbs rose from his chair to retrieve it. Out in the hall, Kate was waiting and heard him approach.

"Well?" she asked.

"He told me a great deal about what these people are doing," Gibbs said in a discouraging way. "He mentioned Rabb. He also described the exact same woman Colonel Mackenzie described at the crime scene."

"How did he escape?" Kate asked, amazed.

"We haven't gotten that far yet," Gibbs answered her. "He's taking his time. He wants to tell the whole story and I'm going to let him." He then turned around, scanned the hallway and spotted who he was looking for. He called him, "Hey, McGee, come here!"

"Yes, boss," McGee answered promptly and was by his boss's side in no time. "What do you need?"

"Take Kate's camera and process the pictures," Gibbs announced, taking the camera right off of her neck and handing it over to McGee. He then turned to Kate and said, "I want you in there with me. I want your opinion on what he says, okay?"

"Okay, Gibbs," she nodded. Gibbs asked a nurse about water while McGee rushed off to head back to NCIS.

----------------------

Gibbs finally returned with the water Locke had requested. Kate followed him in. They both watched the injured man sip it gingerly, then set the glass aside. He looked at Gibbs and announced, "I'll tell you how I escaped."

"I'm all ears," Gibbs said, showing how patient he could really be. Kate thought to herself, if only Gibbs could be this patient all the time.

Locke closed his eyes and started, "They had no use for me after Harm joined up. They decided it was time to get rid of me. I was loaded into a van by two men and we traveled for what seemed like hours . . . maybe days. I was provided no food for the trip. A part of me wonders if they wanted me to die of starvation, so they wouldn't have to waste a bullet on me."

Gibbs nodded, taking notes. Locke continued, "We finally reached Virginia. I knew this because one of the guys in the front of the van started raving about how much he loved those Virginia Caveliers. Anyway, we stopped and they yanked me out. They were wearing masks and dark clothes. It was approaching early morning and I could see we were out on some back road. Then one of them pulled out his gun . . . He was checking the clip for ammo. I knew it would be my only shot to stay alive."

"I didn't want to sit there and wait to be killed, so I surprised them. I jumped the guy with the gun and tackled him. We struggled as his partner then pulled his gun out and fired at the two of us blindly. Luckily, he missed me and shot my attacker. Realizing the man was dead, I took his weapon and shot the other one. It all happened so fast . . . I just ran after that."

"You didn't take their van?" Gibbs asked curiously. He also took this time to glance at Kate. Her eyes expressed she believed the story. Locke was telling the truth. Gibbs could only agree with her.

"No, I just . . . I couldn't think straight, Agent Gibbs," Locke tried to explain. His eyes drifted down toward his own body and he poked at a bruise on his arm. He looked back up and said, "I just wanted to find help. I wanted to stay alive."

"You are alive, Agent Locke and your statement has helped us a great deal," Gibbs told him.

"They'll find me, Gibbs," Locke insisted. "They'll kill me. I know how they work. I know what they are capable of."

Gibbs shook his head and stood up. "No one is getting near you. I'll have people right outside this door protecting you at all times."

**April 17, 2004**

**The Seven Headquarters**

**Somewhere in Chicago**

He was sorting though his paperwork when he heard a soft tap on his office door. Harm slowly looked up to see Krennick standing in the doorway giving him an engaging look. He could tell she was undressing him with her eyes. He abruptly folded his arms across his chest as if to shield himself and said, "Can I help you?"

"Good work in Milan," she said blandly, losing the lustful look in her eyes for now. "Unfortunately, the disk drive was a dud. It was either sabotaged or it's a fake."

"I thought you told me it was one of kind," Harm replied, doing a very good job of keeping his cool. All of his life, he told the truth and nothing but the truth. Now he was lying, but for good reason. In fact, he was finding it very easy to do considering his life was on the line.

"It is. That's why I'm leaning toward the sabotage idea," she said, her eyes locking with his. It was apparent she was accusing him of tampering with the drive himself. "I had our techie, Harold, look it over. You stole the right device, but it was tampered with. Any idea how that happened?"

"What? You think I did it?" he asked, completely shocked. Listening to himself, he felt a sense of pride. He should win an Oscar for this performance. He stood up and protested, "I told you what happened and Trey backed me up. It's all in the report."

"The woman who showed up. Do you know who she was?" Krennick continued to push. Her voice still accusing him of being a traitor to her organization.

"She was the waitress from the restaurant," Harm answered smoothly. It was the first bit of truth he could tell in this web of lies. He shrugged showing his indifference, "Other than that, I don't know her name or whom she works for. She came in while I was breaking into the safe. We struggled and I subdued her. That's when Trey showed up."

Krennick narrowed her eyes. He could tell she didn't believe him, but there was something else going on in that head of hers. She wanted something more than to reprimand him. He maintained his composure as she gazed at him. Much to his dismay, that irritating smile crossed her face as she approached his desk. She sat on the edge of it and crossed her legs, giving him an absorbing stare.

"I believe you, Harmon. I know you. You never break a promise and you promised to be loyal to me."

Harm just stood there, watching her and listening to her words carefully. Did she _really _believe him? He could say whatever he thought would keep him safe, but the bottom line still remained: that disk was a dud and she knew someone tampered with it. His eyes darted down as he watched her hand was slowly advancing to grab his. He instantly pulled his hand away and protested, "No, I promised to be loyal to The Seven. Not loyal to you."

"Isn't that the same thing?" she cooed, now standing up and moving quickly toward him. "I am one of The Seven."

"No, no it isn't," he repeated forcefully and held out his hands to keep her from coming any further. What the hell was she doing? Her actions were causing him to flash back to the old days. In the past, rank had been an issue that even she couldn't ignore. He believed with all his heart that rank was the reason she kept her distance half the time. Notwithstanding, she was the boss now and they weren't in the Navy following regulations. He had to think of something and quickly.

The answer came to him and he stated promptly, "I know about Gareth. I know you've been in a relationship with him for the last eight years."

She stopped her advances and took a step back. Her reaction gave away her surprise that he knew about her status with Gareth. He released a small breath of relief and took his position back behind his desk to give himself more space between them. It was taking everything in his power not to vomit right there in front of her. The thought of being with Krennick ten years ago used to make him a little uneasy, but now it sent his stomach tossing and turning. She seemed to be taking careful consideration of the circumstances now and gave him a completely honest response, "I could care less about Gareth."

"But I do care," Harm continued to push. The last thing he wanted was to be forced into some sexual favor. He added for emphasis, "He threatened me. He claimed you would keep your hands to yourself."

Krennick let out a cackling laugh and commented, "Gareth likes to protect me. He doesn't trust you."

"Are we through here?" Harm asked, feeling more uncomfortable with every passing second.

Harm watched her eyes darken and he began to anticipate some consequences from avoiding her advances. Damn it, he should've just pretended to like it! She folded her arms again and told him bluntly, "I want you to take a lie detector test for me, Harmon."

"You. . .You don't believe me, Allison?" Harm stuttered slightly. He was expecting her to shock him with electricity or set up a boxing match with one of the local big guys. He was not expecting a lie detector test.

"Well, I could hook an IV into your arm and pump your body with toxic fluids," she mused aloud, tapping her cheek. "Your flesh will start to burn and before you know it, you'll be screaming every secret you've ever kept just so the pain will stop."

"A lie detector test sounds fine," Harm said quickly as he flashed his infamous flyboy smile at her. "Whatever it takes for you to believe me, Allison."

He watched her smile emphatically back as she turned on her heels and left him. His face fell as it occurred to him what a big mess he just walked himself into.

--------------------------------

He was led down some hallways he had never traveled before. They weren't dark and eerie like the corridors containing the cellblocks. They weren't bright like the offices. They were dully lit and narrow. The doors were few and far in-between, but each door was labeled with symbols he had never seen before. He studied them as some repeated. The most popular symbol was one that looked like a human eye. It was simple in design. A circle shape flanked by two carrot symbols. To more accurately describe them, they reminded him of the "greater than" and "less than" signs you used in algebra class.

Krennick noticed his attentions on the symbols and she snapped her fingers to bring him back to the here and now. She said coldly, "Those are not for your eyes, Harm. Unfortunately, this is the only way to Cesar's office."

"Cesar?" Harm repeated, losing interest in the symbol for now.

"He'll be conducting the test," she explained. They stopped at the end of the hallway and she pushed open a door. He was led into a small dark room with one long table, two office chairs and a large grey box that was undoubtedly the lie detector. "Cesar will be a few minutes."

He nodded and sat down nervously. He wasn't ready to take a lie detector test! For the longest seconds of his life, he tried to devise a way to fool this machine. Nothing came to mind. Wait, maybe he could. . .

He nervously looked around the room, then decided it was all he could try to do. He had no choice but to try and convince himself he was loyal to the Seven. He practiced telling himself "the truth" in his head.

_I am Commander Harmon Rabb, Jr. US Navy. I was taken, brainwashed and re-educated. I am loyal to The Seven. I am loyal to The Seven. I am loyal to The Seven. . ._

Over and over again for the next four minutes, he tried lowering his heart rate and assuring himself that he was loyal to The Seven. What else could he do? If he couldn't convince himself he was true to this backwards organization then there was no way in hell he would fool this machine. The doors behind him opened, but he remained focus. _I am loyal to The Seven. . ._

Cesar was a wiry man with silver rimmed glasses and beady eyes. He wore a dark suit with a small black tie. You would think this whole ordeal was a funeral by the way he dressed. Cesar slowly and methodically strapped Harm up to the machine. While this was going on, Harm remained steady. His heart jumped every now and then, but that was because the electrodes were cold and caused him to shiver every time they made contact. He prayed wholeheartedly that he was keeping his jitters in check.

"I'm going to ask you a question that I want you to answer falsely," Cesar said, not bothering with introductions or pleasantries. This was all business. They were fishing for a double agent, after all. He cleared his throat and asked, "Are you Albert Einstein?"

"Yes," Harm answered as smoothly as possible, but jumped slightly when he heard the alarm go off indicating he was lying.

"Oops, sorry," his interrogator apologized fakery, then adjusted some buttons. "You won't be hearing any of that during the questioning."

Harm didn't reply. He merely dwelled on the fact at how hard it was to fool this machine. He shut his eyes for a moment, mentally repeating, _I am loyal to The Seven. My name is Harmon Rabb, Jr, former US Navy Commander. I am loyal to The Seven._

The wiry man adjusted his glasses and asked blandly, "Are you loyal to The Seven?"

Harm opened his eyes, viewing his dark expression reflecting off the lenses on his interrogator. He could see how dead his eyes had become, due to lack of sleep. Harm focused on his grim reflection as he spoke his answer with conflicted pride, "Yes, I am loyal to The Seven."

Harm watched his interrogator's eyes, but they revealed nothing. Not a flinch of surprise or satisfaction. He let his head droop in disappointment as the questions poured in.

_Have you had contact with persons from your previous life?_

-No.

_Have you had contact with any persons affiliated with the United States government?"_

-No.

_Did you sabotage the mission in Milan?_

-No.

Each time he gave an answer, he could see the deterioration of his eyes in his reflection. He focused on that, forcing himself to become Harm the Terrorist and leaving behind Harm the Lawyer. Harm the Hero. Harm the Good Guy.

The last question was given and he answered with a lie. The machine was turned off and he was unhooked. He was taken to his office and told to stay there until they went over the results.

To be continued. . .


	15. Locke and Key Part 2

Disclaimer: not mine

Author's Note: Firstly, this is going up because of an error on my part. If you keep up with my site, I accidently posted the next part about a month ago. I was messing with some code and remodeling the site and that's how it got up there. Since it was posted there for so long, it only made sense to update it here. Secondly, my excuse for not posting in many, many months before mistakenly uploading to my site: real life. For those faithful readers out there, here's the next part. I thank you from the bottom of my heart for sticking around. Anywho, got a suggestion to put in little blurbs about previous chapters given the fact that I don't post with any consistency whatsoever. So, here's small, relevant recaps of previous stuff to help jog the memory. If you would like to reread this story anyway, read it here or on my website (link in profile) Thanks to Katie my beta reader.

Previously: AJ stops by Mac's apartment to inform her that Clark Palmer's transport was attacked and blasted to bits while being transported from one facility to another. No body was found.

Kate informs Gibbs about Mac's motivations concerning Harm. She may be holding out in order to find Harm herself. Gibbs intends on speaking to Mac only to discover Chris Locke, one of the missing Marines, has literally shown up at their doorstep. He provides clues to Harm's kidnapping and possibly more. ..

Meanwhile, Krennick questions Harm about his mission in Milan and he is forced to undergo a lie detector test. . .

**The Seven**

by e-dog

Chapter Fifteen

"Locke and Key"

Part Two

**April 17, 2004**

**The Seven Headquarters**

**Somewhere in Chicago**

Harm could feel the business card Sydney Bristow had given him burning a hole in his pocket. A number scrawled on the back that he was to call when he could. He was deeply considering working as a double agent to bring down Allison Krennick and The Seven. Granted he would need to actually be allowed to leave this place in order to do so. The longer he was stuck in this building being constantly observed by his torturer, the less likely he would be able to contact Sydney.

Seeing how these thoughts were rumbling around in his head all the time, it would've taken a miracle for him to pass that test. He knew for a fact he had failed with a capital "F".

Some of the questions were not applicable considering he had absolutely no contact with anyone from his previous life. Other inquiries like the very straightforward "loyalty to The Seven" question was much harder to fool. He could feel his end was near as he wondered what the punishment would be for lying. Electric shock? A quick and painless shot to the back of the head? Maybe he would be placed back in his cell with no food or water. Solitary confinement would surely drive him mad.

His door suddenly flew open ceasing the morbid thoughts that were weighing him down. It was Allison, standing in the doorway. Harm sat up in his chair, his eyes locking with hers. He gulped slightly and greeted her, "Allison."

"I have your results," she waved the folder up and down and then slammed it on the desk. He jumped back slightly at the force in which she used to thrash the papers down in front of him. She shook her head in mock disappointment as she sighed, "I'm not sure how you did it."

"Did what?" he asked cautiously, leaning back in his chair. He was trying to relax and look confident.

"The results are inconclusive," she stated simply. "Either you fooled the machine or your answers were really that conflicted."

"Conflicted?" Harm reiterated, pretending not to understand even though he had a good idea of what she meant.

She flipped open the folder and pulled out one of the sheets. She smiled in a somewhat amazed way and started to read, "You answered 'Yes' when asked if you were loyal to The Seven. You were lying. On the other hand, when asked a similar question discerning whether or not you have ever lied to me, you passed when you said 'No.'"

"My answers contradict themselves," Harm concluded, not sure whether this was a good thing or a bad thing.

"So, how about I give you your 'Get Out Of Jail' free card, right now," Krennick offered, her eyes lighting up in an eerie way. There was some reason she was letting him go and he prayed to the heavens above that it wasn't for something. . .sexual. She finished by batting her eyes at him and saying, "You tell me the truth about what really happened in Milan and I'll look the other way."

"And what about Mac?" Harm asked as if on automatic pilot. He couldn't really keep the question from escaping his mouth because his concerns really lied with her. Now that he had said it, he wished he hadn't. It merely showed that he had not been telling the truth about Milan all along.

"Depends on what you tell me," Krennick shrugged, taking his slip-up casually.

He didn't like that she was letting him go so easily, but it relieved him at the same time. She had given him ample signals letting him know it was okay he screwed up. He wished he knew why she was being so nice to him.

"I don't know her name," Harm began, not ready to reveal the entire truth. However, he had to identify some names in order to sell it. "She said she was CIA and that she knew Clayton Webb. She told me she was going to disarm the disk drive, but Trey came back early. I knocked her out to save her, but followed her orders anyway. I gave you the tampered drive to keep you from using it."

Krennick watched him heedfully, but he could see in her eyes she was buying his story this time around. She nodded and stood up. "Thank you for being truthful, Harmon. I trust from now on you'll be faithful?"

"Yes, ma'am," Harm nodded, keeping eye contact with her. He wanted to make sure he was really off the hook.

She produced a key and held it up for him see. "This is the key to your new apartment."

"My apartment?" he repeated softly. The idea that he was being given some freedom astounded him and the key glowed with invitation. He reached out to take it, but paused, "What's the catch?"

"You will be monitored for a short time, but I _trust_ you will behave," she told him sternly, still holding out the key for him to take. Her emphasis on the word "trust" told him he better keep his word from now on. She walked around his desk so that she was standing next to his chair. Instinctively, he backed away and stood up out of the chair. This time, she wasn't letting him back away so easily. She followed him, until he hit the back wall. He was trapped. She stood in front of him and smiled widely in satisfaction, "It's time I started treating you like the other employees around here, Harm."

Like the other employees, hmm? How many of those other employees had she had relations with? Maybe he could avoid her advances in the office, but in an apartment? Ha! There was no way he could push her away then. He _really_ needed to get out here. On the other hand, she was giving him a longer leash. More freedom. The card Sydney Bristow had given him was constantly calling out to him. That number could pave the way to his freedom.

Krennick was dangling the key, waiting on him to take it. He started to reach out, but he could also see the way she was looking at him. Her eyes were mischievous and hungry. He pulled his hand back again.

She smiled widely at his reluctance and made a step forward when his office door suddenly swung open. It was Trey and he could obviously see Krennick practically leaning into Harm. He coughed and asked amused, "Am I interrupting something?"

"_Yes_." Krennick was very much irritated and her eyes remained focused on her "personal super spy". Harm gave Trey a look pleading for help.

Trey caught the stare and coughed again. He said with a grievous expression, "We have a problem."

She rolled her eyes and pushed herself off and away from Harm. She dropped the key into his open palm, turned on her heel and walked out of his office clearly agitated Trey had showed up and interrupted her pleasure seeking quest. Trey obnoxiously winked at Harm before he followed her and shut the door.

Releasing a huge breath of air, Harm slowly slid down the wall he was leaning against until he hit the floor. She didn't get what she wanted this time, but he could only imagine what she would want the next time. Not to mention what would happen if Gareth found out. He shut his eyes tightly. Crap. She was infatuated with him. It wasn't really a secret, but that little stunt she just tried to pull proved it. That was why she let him get away with screwing up the mission in Milan. The lie detector test was just something to scare him; to show she meant business. She already knew he was lying, but needed an excuse to say, "Hey, Harmon. It's alright. I'll take care of you.".

He groaned inwardly, then remembered the cold, metal key in his hand. He held it up and stared at it in awe. It was his first chance for a little freedom.

He then reached into his pants pocket and felt Mac's ring there. Sydney Bristow's reassurance that Mac was safe. He didn't pull the ring out, but he grasped it in his pocket tightly. He closed his eyes and told himself going through this hell would be worth it in the end. When this was over, he would see Mac again. And when he saw her, he would back up what he told her. He said that he loved her and he meant it.

----------------------

"You know, I just came in when the chick was on the floor. I didn't see _everything_," Trey pointed out as he followed Krennick to her office. He asked, "So, you're not going to punish him?"

Krennick sneered, then answered discreetly, "It was his second mission. He won't mess up again."

Trey just shrugged, not wanting to push the issue too much. He was sure there was a reason Krennick hadn't blasted a hole through Harm's skull and he was pretty sure he knew why. Even still, it wasn't his place to ask, so he left it alone. They walked into her office. She asked snippily, "What's the problem?"

"Locke escaped. . .somehow," Trey cut to the chase. "We underestimated him."

Her eyes shot up and glared at him. He shivered under the glower. She was livid, but doing a good job of staying in check. It was what made her such a good leader. She always managed to stay cool when things didn't go as planned. On the flip side, she could also be pretty damn irrational when there was a string of mishaps. She could deal with one thing maybe two, but multiple problems usually sent her over the edge.

She turned to Trey and said, "He's gone now. There's nothing we can do."

"Ma'am?" Trey asked, sounding shocked by her answer.

"My best guess is he's already gone to the authorities, you nitwit," she snapped at him and leaned on her desk. "However, Locke won't get off that easily. If he makes the mistake of going public with this, I want him eliminated."

"Yes, ma'am," Trey smiled, liking that idea. "I'll be sure to round up some guys. They'll keep an eye on him."

"Tsk, tsk, Allison," called a voice from the doorway. "You should really learn to control your temper."

She looked up and grinned at him. "Well, it's about time you showed up. What took you so long?"

Clark Palmer stepped into the office completely. He was wearing a brand spanking new suit, his hair was cut shorter then usual and he wore polished black shoes. He straightened his tie and smiled, "I'm sorry, dear, but I had to make a stop at the ATM. A man needs a little cash to travel around this damn country."

"Where in the world did you get money?" Krennick asked him, then added scornfully. "ATM transactions can be tracked."

"No worries," Palmer laughed and plopped down in a chair. He propped his feet up on her desk and explained, "The account wasn't in my name."

"Then whose name was it under?" she asked.

"Harmon Rabb, Jr."

Krennick's eyes narrowed. Trey watched as he realized Palmer was about to feel the wrath of a woman who wouldn't think twice about breaking your neck. Trey slowly backed up, trying to escape. Unfortunately escape seemed unlikely after she pressed a button under her desk. The door behind him automatically shut and locked. He was trapped.

Krennick slowly walked around the desk and approached the relaxed Palmer, who was smiling back up at her. He said with a toothy grin, "I set up the account years ago for emergencies such as this."

"I see," she answered with a taut smile. Unexpectedly, she smacked Palmer across the face sending him to the floor. He looked up at her stunned as she pulled out a .22 Magnum and aimed it in his direction.

"Whoa, honey! Sweetie!" Palmer held up his hands in defense. "What's the deal?"

"Harmon Rabb is _here_, you imbecile!" she shouted and kicked him in his side. Her heel dug into his chest as she cocked the gun, preparing to fire it. "If that money trail leads back to us, we're ruined!"

"Look, I only accessed the money in Kansas," Palmer said calmly, that maniacal smile of his coming back. "Just enough cash for a plane ticket to LA. From there I hitched rides. No one can trace me here. I'm not that stupid."

Trey had frozen in his tracks when he saw her pull the gun. Usually, he could be tough and hang with the best of them. He was known for running his mouth and getting into fights. Right now, however, sweat was forming on his brow because Krennick had become unpredictable. First the sabotaged disk drive, then losing Locke, now Palmer. If anything else happened, someone was going to lose a limb and he sure as hell didn't want it to be him!

Seeing he hadn't convinced her yet, Palmer added, "Listen to the news reports. They wasted so much time looking for my dead body, they had no idea I had already boarded a plane! Just listen to the news reports!"

"Are you sure?" she pushed, maintaining her stance. Her trigger finger danced happily, begging to be provoked.

"How long have we been working together?" he asked her, squirming slightly under the sharp heel digging into his chest. "You know me, Allison."

"Yes, I do," she answered, starting to calm down. However, Palmer's eyes widened in fear when he saw her expression flare up in anger again. She was going to shoot him anyway! As he went to get up, the gun discharged. He covered his face, only to hear someone else in the room cry out. He looked behind him to see Trey, his eyes wide and his mouth gaping open.

"Ah!" Trey finally shouted in surprise. The man stumbled backwards grabbing his leg. He fell to the floor, wailing out in pain.

Krennick glared at Palmer and ordered, "Get up."

Palmer stood up immediately and turned to look at Trey, writhing on the floor in anguish. Trey cried out, "Why did you do that? Oh God . . . Oh God . . . "

"You're going to live," Krennick rolled her eyes at him. "Get out of here before you stain my floors with your blood."

Trey whimpered as he heard the door unlock. He pulled himself up and dragged himself out. Palmer slowly turned to look at her. He gave her an incredulous stare and asked, "What the hell was that for?"

"I need you more than I need him," she rationalized. "You pissed me off and I needed someone to shoot. I shot him."

"You're cold, Allison," Palmer mildly joked. "We need to work on your people skills."

"And you need to take this more seriously," Krennick snapped at him. She watched as his relaxed posture stiffened. She tucked her gun back behind her and continued, "Things have changed around here, hon. People who don't tread lightly, end up dead."

"Hey, now, don't you threaten me!" Palmer protested, now starting to get upset himself. "I started this company with you! I am one of The Seven, just like you!"

"I could give a rat's ass if you _were_ like me," she hissed. "You couldn't let your hatred for Harm go and you got yourself locked up. You were an idiot then and you're an idiot now."

Palmer's expression was reserved and calm all at the same time. That malignant smirk he always wore had faded into a perturbed frown. She was right. Things had changed in his six year absence. She was more ruthless . . . more murderous than ever before. She had gained power in this organization that he lost after being thrown into solitary confinement at the hands of Harmon Rabb, Jr. It became painfully clear he would need to earn his way back to the top. He would have to prove himself in her eyes.

He cleared his throat and stated, "I'm not an idiot."

"That's good to know," she simpered, her lips curling in a smug way. "I have enough idiots to keep track of. I could use the help of a levelheaded con artist around here."

"I'm your man," Palmer promised, his eyes giving off a twinkle of malevolency. "I won't let you down."

**April 18, 2004**

**Harm's New Apartment**

**Chicago**

His new alias was Peter Rowe.

At least that was the name on the electric bill that had arrived in his mailbox. The apartment key Krennick gave him allowed him access to a cramped, but nicely furnished space. A black, leather couch. A 32-inch television and a cable service that gave him over 300 channels but failed in giving him something interesting to watch. Last night was the first time he'd slept in a real bed, instead of on some cot. It was a queen sized bed cluttered with an assortment of maroon and forest green pillows. He now owned a fridge stocked with fresh foods, a bottle of red wine and other things. All of this before him were the rewards of being a semi-successful terrorist spy. No matter how nice the material items were, he knew they were bought by ill-gotten ways. He could never truly enjoy his new abode.

Peeping through his venetian blinds, he checked every hour on the hour. He always saw a dark grey Buick with two men inside. They were outside the building at all times, watching him.

Unfortunately, that car wasn't the only thing watching him. He did a thorough check for cameras, bugs, anything and everything. Nothing under the counters or in the drawers. However, under tables and in the salt and pepper shakers he discovered small bugs recording all the sounds of the apartment. He checked inside all containers, closets, corners, and under rugs. Little by little, he found cameras, microphones and explosives. Yes, explosives. Apparently, they were ready to blow up the place if he decided to betray them ever again.

Harm lay in bed that morning, trying to figure out how he was going to contact Sydney Bristow. There were no phones in this apartment, which he expected. He had no way to contact the outside. He turned on his side to look at the clock. It was 5 in the morning. He stood up and walked over to the window. Yep. His "shadow" was still there.

Maybe it was time for a test.

Adorned in sunglasses, a baseball cap and some running attire, Harm decided to go for a jog. The moment he set foot outside, he heard the car rev it's engine across the street. As ordered by Krennick, he nodded towards the car to indicate he was leaving, then started his jog. Occasionally, he would look over his shoulder, but he would always see the car. In fact, he spotted another shadow walking a few feet behind him on foot. There was no chance for Harm to make it to a telephone booth and get any privacy.

So after the short run, he went back to his pristine bachelor pad to come up with a new plan. He paced the floor, gnawed on an apple and wracked his brain for the answer. Of course, he would sometimes begin to wonder if this was all some elaborate set-up. First, Krennick was being too nice to him for her own good. Second, Sydney claimed she knew Webb. Anything involving him usually meant trouble. On the other hand, Sydney also gave him Mac's Marine Corps ring. Was that enough proof? Was she trustworthy simply because she had the ring?

Who's to say she didn't just kidnap Mac and take it herself? Like the ring was bait to reel him into something ever more hellish and unspeakable.

He paused his pacing, slowly chewing on the snack. What could be worse than The Seven? His imagination was running away with him again. The card Sydney gave him was all he had and he just had to deal with it. His stomach rumbled, not satisfied with just the apple. That's when he got an idea.

Harm put on a new pair of khaki pants, a dress shirt and a tie. A brown coat went on over top of that. He slicked his hair back and placed reading glasses on his face. He ran his hand over a little stubble that remained, but he didn't bother to shave it away. After he was dressed, he realized he looked nothing like his old service photo. He had changed so much in the last few weeks.

He went outside and nodded towards the car waiting for him. They drove up and he leaned in the window and said, "I'm hungry. I want to eat out."

"Get in," the man inside the car ordered. Harm did as he was told. He didn't make any specific requests, so he was driven to a local, but popular restaurant. Menu consisted of hamburgers, chicken, steaks and meatloaf. All classic American meals and he longed for something not covered in gravy. He finally settled on the meatloaf. He was ordered to sit by the window. Across the table from him was the driver of the grey Buick.

"You got a name?" Harm asked him. His driver was a stout guy who always wore a grim expression.

"Reznik," was the response. His accent was thick. Harm was positive it was Russian.

"Well, Reznik, I was thinking," Harm said, sipping his water. "Next time we go out, could you tone down the dress? You look like a serial killer who will strangle me any minute."

Reznik didn't find that funny. He merely scowled at Harm. Harm simply gave him a stiff smile. Conversation was obviously not going to work here. They received their meals and ate in silence. Harm was nearly finished eating when he spotted his opportunity. A chatty young man walked past them, a cell phone joined to his ear. He was heading for the restroom. Harm casually stood up and Reznik grabbed his arm.

"I have to use the bathroom," Harm told him.

"I'm coming with you," Reznik said.

"Okay, look, it's bad enough we came in here together," Harm leaned down and whispered. "What do you think people will believe when you follow me into the bathroom holding my arm like that?"

Reznik immediately let go of Harm's arm, indicating he was indeed homophobic. He ordered, "You have three minutes."

"Thank you," Harm smiled and hurried off. Once he was in the bathroom, he grabbed the young man's shoulder. "Hey, I need your phone."

"What? Why?" the kid asked, his eyes widening in alarm.

"Look, kid, this is a matter of national security. If I don't use that phone right now, a bomb will go off and kill lots of people!" Harm hissed in his ear. Sure, it was overly dramatic, but it worked. The kid handed over the phone quickly, clearly the victim of watching too much drama television. Harm reached in his pocket and pulled out the card. He hastily dialed the number and waited three long seconds.

"Please state your ID Number."

"012084," Harm said, remembering the number Sydney gave him. How could he forget? He'd been repeating it in his head for the last three days.

"Hold on, please," the voice said. Then Harm waited for another long ten seconds when a familiar voice called his name.

"Harm?"

"Sydney?" Harm asked, to make sure.

"We thought you weren't going to call," she remarked.

"I'm sorry, but they watch my every move. I only have a few seconds."

There was another short pause before she asked the million dollar question, "Where are you?"

"Chicago. Northwest Side. I have an apartment. It's Higgins Road, Apt. 2B. I have to go." Harm terminated the call and tossed the phone back to the kid. Without saying thank you, Harm walked out as calmly as possible. He could see Reznik sitting at the table, but he was concentrating on his meal. He didn't suspect a thing. Harm released a sigh of relief, approached the table and told Reznik, "Thanks for the meal. I'm ready to go home."

To be continued. . .


	16. I'm Not A Murderer

Disclaimer: not mine

Warning: Violent musings/thoughts

Previously: Jason Tiner is back but has received two mysterious calls since his return to JAG (Chapter 11 and 13). The second call orders him to track Mac to a coffee shop, where he returns the call and reports that Clayton Webb and Mac were talking. . .

Harm is caught off guard when Krennick dismisses his lie detector test and is given a new place to live. Palmer returns, but doesn't expect the hostile welcome from Krennick. Palmer also reveals himself as one of The Seven and promises to be a valuable asset to the team.

Meanwhile, Harm moves into his new apartment and devises a way to contact Sydney Bristow. . .

**The Seven**

by e-dog

Chapter Sixteen

"I'm Not A Murderer"

**April 18, 2004**

**APO Headquarters**

**Somewhere in Los Angeles**

Clay was seated in Arvin Sloane's office anxiously rubbing his hands together. It had been three days since the trip to Milan. Three days since Sydney made contact with Harm and gave him the number. Harm still hadn't called yet and this troubled all the members of APO. It especially troubled Clay, who could only think of Mac and her relationship to Harm. Despite how much he hated it, Harm was very important to Sarah Mackenzie, therefore that made Harm very important to Clayton Webb.

Sloane looked up at Clay and asked, "You're sure he'll call?"

"He'll call," Clay repeated again for the umpteenth time. He rubbed his lips in nervousness as he added grievously, "He has to."

Another long ten minutes of silence passed before Marshall ran in and nearly tripped over his own feet. He was breathless as he informed them, "He's on the phone! Right now!"

Both men instantly rose to their feet as Sloane ordered quickly, "Tell Sydney to talk to him. Initiate protocol."

Within seconds, the whole team was gathered around Sydney and the phone. Jack, Sloane and Clay wore headsets so they could hear everything that would be said. Marshall was working on trying to triangulate the signal of the call. Vaughn and Dixon were there, just to observe. Sydney picked up the phone and started, "We thought you weren't going to call."

"I'm sorry, but they watch my every move. I only have a few seconds."

While Sydney spoke to Harm, Sloane asked Marshall, "Where's the call coming from?"

"Not sure yet," Marshall stammered, typing quickly on his laptop. Then his face lit up as he announced, "But I know it's a cell phone. . . in Illinois."

"Sydney, ask him where he is," Jack ordered.

"Where are you?" Sydney did as she was told.

They all listened to Harm's voice as he told them exactly where he was, "Chicago. Northwest Side. I have an apartment. It's Higgins Road, Apt. 2B. I have to go."

The line went dead and Sydney reported, "He's gone."

"Marshall?" Jack looked over at the young techie.

"He's telling the truth. The cell phone signal that I tracked was coming from Chicago, near the Northwest Side," Marshall confirmed. He then chuckled and added with a silly grin, "This is so cool."

"Alright, Vaughn, Dixon, Sydney," Sloane addressed them. "You're going to Chicago. You will extract him when it is safe and bring him back for questioning."

"Extract?" Sydney asked surprised. "I thought we were going to. . ."

"That was then, Sydney. Now that Rabb has been inside for this long, we have a concrete location," Sloane clarified. "Besides, Harmon Rabb didn't ask for this and the longer he stays in there, the more likely we won't be able to pull him out. Right now, Rabb is a valuable asset. He's the only man inside The Seven and he's the only man who can tell us their main objectives. I'm sure you can understand how important it is that you bring him back alive."

Clay watched the sincerity washing over the entire team. Oh yeah. They knew how important this was. After years of tracking and gathering lists, they finally had something substantial on this terrorist group. If Harm was in Chicago, that meant The Seven was stationed there as well. They were one step closer to finding out who The Seven really were. They were one step closer to finding out who murdered Mark Daniels, Andy Watson, Brian Hanson and countless others.

And he didn't want to miss out.

Clay turned to Sloane and said bluntly, "I want to go."

"You're staying here, Mr. Webb," Sloane told him, his voice giving Clay no room to argue. "You told me you think someone is watching Colonel Mackenzie. Find out who."

"Yes, sir," Clay said grudgingly as he watched Sydney, Vaughn and Dixon walk away. He wanted nothing more than to go with them, but Sarah's safety came first. He started to fish in his pockets for his cell phone while he made his way to his office. A strong hand landed on his shoulder, stopped him and whirled him around. It was Jack Bristow. Clay couldn't help but gulp, "Agent Bristow?"

"Are you going to see Colonel Mackenzie?" Jack asked brusquely.

"I was going to call her, yes," Clay answered, not sure why Jack cared. He had already made clear his distaste for any relationship between the two of them. What more could he disapprove of?

"It is imperative that you don't contact her," Jack warned him.

"What? Why? Sloane just told me to. . .," Clay objected.

"No, Sloane told you to find out who's following her," Jack corrected. "There are some things going on that you may not be aware of. One, that she is being watched very closely and every time you talk to her, you make her look more suspicious."

Clay didn't say anything as he mulled over Jack's words. What was he trying to say? Clay stuck his phone back in his breast pocket reluctantly and asked, "Do you know who it is?"

"I think I do," Jack admitted and revealed a folder. "After you expressed concerns about her safety, I took the liberty of gathering any security tapes from her apartment complex. After watching three weeks of tape, I spotted this young man in her parking lot several times."

Clay wanted to ask why Jack was even concerned with Sarah's safety. Why did he take the initiative to monitor her apartment? While those answers eluded him, now was not the time to ask. He took the folder eagerly and opened it to read its contents. His eyes landed on the picture. He recognized him! Clay's head snapped up in surprise. "No way. It can't be him. . ."

Jack didn't answer him. He merely stared at him in that austere manner, showing he was very serious about his findings. Clay glanced back down at the photograph again to see Jason Tiner staring back up at him. It didn't really register with him before, but Tiner's return to JAG was a little unexpected. Everyone had know of his departure to Officer Candidate School, but his intentions were never dead set on returning to Falls Church. Something changed his mind. Or should he say, _someone_ changed his mind. Clay shut the folder and asked Jack, "If I can't call her, then what should I do?"

"She's a smart woman," Jack replied. "She'll figure it out on her own."

"Seriously, Jack," Clay protested, making sure the other agent didn't walk away from him. "You can't just drop this information in my lap and expect me to do nothing."

Jack narrowed his eyes some, then said slowly, "Do you really think your relationship with the Colonel is some big secret? The entire spy world knows about Paraguay, Mr. Webb. They are watching you too."

With that, Jack left abruptly having said what he needed to say. What someone should have stated out loud months ago. Paraguay was a big operation involving a big name terrorist. Of course the entire spy world knew of the events that took place. Of course everyone knew who was involved.

The Seven knew Harm was in Paraguay. That he lost his job at JAG. That he flew planes for the CIA. If they knew about all of those things, they surely knew about Sarah's role in the whole thing.

Clay stood there dumbly, holding the folder and staring in the direction Jack left. That man was irritating as all hell, but he was also right. The more Clay talked to Sarah, the more he put her at risk of being exposed. Well, to be more accurate, the more he risked of exposing her more than she already was.

He paused his musings, a new idea coming to him. It had been a while since they last talked, but loyalty had never been an issue when it came to his old friend. Surely, he would find it in his heart to help.

**April 18,2004**

**The Seven Headquarters**

**Somewhere in Chicago**

Harm straightened his tie and smoothed his suit jacket as he strolled down the bright corridor. Krennick wanted him to come in for a new assignment. He was on his way to her office, but was stopped when Gareth approached him. Harm groaned inwardly, wondering what his trainer wanted now. The last time they spoke, a threat hung in the air promising Harm would be maimed if Krennick decided to "put the moves" on him.

"Gareth," Harm greeted him, with a slight nod of his head.

"Hey, Harm. I didn't see you yesterday," Gareth stared him down, his eyes clearly suspicious.

"I have an apartment now. I went there," Harm answered, his words sounding clipped and flat. It was hard for him to remain steadfast. All he could think about was his interactions with Krennick the day before. He knew his office was monitored on video cameras everyday. Did Gareth have access to such feeds?

"She must trust you a lot then," Gareth shrugged, but his voice sounded bitter. "She never lets me leave this damn place."

Harm could feel the waves of hurt and confusion coming from his trainer. It was hard to believe Gareth and Krennick were even in a relationship based on what he was hearing. Not to mention her blatant flirting with every other man in this building. Was Gareth clearly that blind to all of that? Harm coughed, still unsure as to what he could say in response.

"Where are you going?" Gareth spoke up again. "You gonna stop by the gym later?"

"Uh, maybe. . .," Harm murmured, starting to feel more uncomfortable. "I'm going to see Krennick."

"Oh," was Gareth's reply. His face was beginning to burn red and Harm felt like shrinking away.

"I could probably use some pointers on that counter attack you were showing me the other day. . .," Harm added a little too enthusiastically. He even went as far as to mimic the moves he had learned, throwing a left jab and then his right arm to block. It was clear Gareth knew this change of subject was a diversionary tactic, but he played along and agreed to show Harm later. He also proceeded to give Harm a playful/warning punch in the arm to remind him of his promise to kill him for any discretionary acts with his girl. Harm sighed deeply as he watched Gareth walk away. Harm was trying his best to keep Krennick away. He _really_ was.

Speaking of the devil, he still had to go see her. He finally started to make his way to her office again when he overheard someone say the name "Tiner". He ceased his walking and slowly turned around, searching for the location of the voice. He could hear a hushed noise coming from the conference room. He slowly crept back up and stood near the door. It sounded like a group of people were conversing and carrying on about some guy named "Tiner". Naturally, his interest was peaked.

"So, what happened next?" a woman said. She had a hearty but vile laugh.

"Tiner and his friend were just walking. Minding their own business," another man told the story. "They were looking for a little action when we grabbed the friend, Ray. Beat the shit out of him. This boy Tiner has this horrifying sick expression on his face. That's when we told him he was working for us now."

"What's Krennick want with him?" asked another one.

"He's an old friend of that Colonel Mackenzie. He's been ordered to track her movements."

Harm walked away after that. One, he didn't want to get caught listening. Two, hearing Mac's name was enough to realize that they were talking about Jason Tiner. He wanted to stay cool and collected, trying to pretend he didn't just hear that bit of startling news. But Tiner? He was such a sweet kid. Sure, he could be a little scattered brained, but he would never do anything like this would he?

Harm stood in the doorway of Krennick's office. She looked up and for a long moment they studied each other. Harm swallowed hard understanding that Tiner was wrapped up in this because of her. His lip quivered as thoughts of making Krennick cry for mercy filtered into his mind. She had disrupted his life and Mac's life and now Jason Tiner's life. He wanted her gone. . .permanently.

"Come in, Harmon," she finally said.

He walked in stiffly and stood in front of her desk. She stood up and leaned on the desk and spoke, "I just wanted to inform you that an old operative has returned. Since you're such an _integral_ part of this team, you need to know who you're working with."

"Did something happen to Trey?" Harm asked slightly bewildered.

"He had an accident with a gun," she remarked with a smirk. "For now, you'll have a new partner until Trey gets better."

"Who?" Harm asked. Krennick motioned for him to turn around. He did and slowly dropped his jaw at the person standing behind him. He couldn't believe his eyes. He couldn't say anything either. What could he say? What could he do?

Clark Palmer simply smiled back and said, "Hey, Harm. It's been a while. I've been _dying_ to say hello, but didn't get my chance until today."

"Harm, reacquaint yourself with Mr. Palmer," Krennick told him, while he continued to gape in disbelief. "He's actually a veteran here, so don't be surprised to be taking orders from him."

"Orders?" Harm repeated, finally finding his voice. He stared at Krennick, then back at Palmer. It slowly dawned on him, but he understood what the term 'veteran' meant. He looked at her and stated the obvious, "Palmer is one of the original Seven."

"You got it, Harm!" Palmer laughed and patted him on the back heartily. "I could never pull the wool over your eyes! You're too smart!"

Harm shied away from Palmer, putting space between them. If he stood too close to Palmer, he would be forced to greet him with several well placed punches to the abdomen. He could tell Palmer sensed his growing irritation and let his ill-guided chuckles subside. Harm pressed his lips together tightly, trying desperately not to scream. This man. . .Clark Palmer tried to ruin his life. His career and reputation. How could Krennick expect them to work together like they didn't have a history?

"Cat got your tongue, Harmy?" Palmer teased, his eyes not reflecting the humor in his voice. They were just barely open. Small slithers just allowing his pupils to glare at his nemesis. "I can't believe you don't have anything to say. I hear lawyers can be quite chatty."

Harm balled up his fists trying to channel the negative energy he was feeling into a dark secluded place in the back of his brain. He couldn't let Palmer agitate him now. Especially not now. While the shock of Palmer was still lingering in the air, he now knew another member of the original Seven. With both Palmer and Krennick in charge, things could only get worse. Harm uneasily faced her again. As calmly as possible he asked, "Is this why you called me in?"

"There's more," she told him, holding up a folder. "I have a new assignment for you."

Harm reached out to take the folder and listened as she explained what his mission entailed. "The picture in there is of Leslie Dozier. It was taken in Washington D.C. He's a threat."

"Why?" Harm asked, not understanding.

"Mr. Dozier will be at a banquet on the 20th," Palmer chimed in, taking a seat on the edge of Krennick's desk. "While on the outside he's a United States humanitarian, a small percentage of his charitable finances actually fund terrorists."

"You have got to be kidding," Harm muttered under his breath, finding it very hard to take them seriously. These two sorry excuses for human beings _were_ terrorists! They were concerned about other terrorists making money?

"Believe me, we're not kidding," Krennick said in a light warning tone. "Dozier's money funds one of our rivals. We've been trying to eliminate them for some time. They're a small contingent with big ideas and very little man power. Once we do away with Dozier, we'll stop their money flow and any possible irreparable damage."

"Wait? Do away with? You want me to kill him?" Harm asked incredulously. He could hear Palmer snicker with delight. That utterance and the expression on Krennick's face gave him his answer. Harm shook his head, his voice slightly breathless, "Allison. . .I promised to be loyal to protect Mac. . .my friends. Bu-, but I'm not a murderer!"

"Funny thing is, you _are_ a murderer, Harm," Krennick chuckled wickedly, walking around her desk to face him. "Remember your test? The mission in Germany? You were surrounded by four police officers. Innocents who were just doing their job. You had to kill them to survive."

"And what about your time in the Navy? You've had to kill people then too," Palmer added in a sinister voice. He hopped off the desk and approached Harm. He tapped his cheek in thought and with sarcasm added, "Let's see? Who else can we use as an example? Sarah Mackenzie, perhaps? She shot Sadik Fahd in cold blood. Twice, I heard."

Harm immediately lunged forward and plugged Palmer square in the face. He watched the escaped con grunt in pain as he fell to the carpeted floor. Harm spat at him, "You leave Sarah out of this."

"If you only knew, pal," Palmer spat back up at him. "Sarah Mackenzie killed a good man."

"Shut-up," Harm warned.

"You're both killers!" Palmer shouted, completely enraged now as he stood to his feet once more. Harm wasn't sure, but it seemed Palmer was extremely angry about Sadik's death. Or he was just being an asshole and trying to provoke him. "That stupid piece of trash you call a Marine killed a good man!"

"You son of a bitch!" Harm said, barely finishing his sentence before punching Palmer again.

Palmer immediately recovered and tackled Harm for the ill-advised punch. Before either man could invoke any more physical damage on each other, they both heard the sound of a revolver being prepared to fire. Harm reluctantly let go of Palmer's lapels. Palmer slowly rose from the floor. They both cautiously turned around to find Krennick had her gun trained on both of them. She grinned highly amused, "You two can fight about whose is bigger some other time. We have an operation to outline and both of you will have to work together."

"I will not work with _him_ and I will not kill that man," Harm growled. "I don't care what he's done or who he is. I don't care where his money is going or why you want him dead. If anything, I'll prevent his murder."

Palmer rolled his eyes at Harm's little speech. He folded his arms defiantly and added, "If you really want Dozier dead, I'll do it. Send Harm back to his little cellblock and let him contemplate his pathetic life."

Krennick wasn't hearing any of their arguments and the blaze of fury that radiated from her eyes made both men shiver. She glared at Palmer and said in a harsh whisper, "You of all people should know not to argue with me while I'm holding a gun."

To their relief, she relaxed her firing hand and placed the gun back in her desk drawer. Her icy stare met Harm's determined one as she reminded him, "Colonel Mackenzie. Commander Turner. Lieutenant Roberts. Petty Officer Coates. Mr. and Mrs. Frank Burnett. Do I need to keep going or do I have your attention now?"

Harm's eyes widened when she listed his parent's names. They probably thought he was dead. Little did they know that a piece of his past was keeping close tabs on them. It was a painful reminder that if he denied this mission, Krennick would no doubt exact her revenge on his loved ones. Harm clenched his fists and spoke in a hoarse tone, "Someday Allison. . .I'll. . ."

"What? You'll kill me?" Krennick mocked. "Spoken like a true murderer. Now get out of my office. Both of you."

Harm and Palmer merely glared at each other. Krennick watched them carefully. They managed to make it out the door without killing each other then purposely took off in opposite directions. Once her office was clear, she called in her new partner. "You can come out. We're alone."

Smooth laughter filled the air as a hidden door opened. The tall bookshelf was really an entryway and a slickly dressed man stepped into the office. She could feel his grin lighting up the room. She turned to face the latest addition to the office. Ari Haswari. His latest entanglement with NCIS had brought him to her doorstep, but that was a matter they would settle later. He bowed slightly and greeted her, "I have to admit. . .I'm impressed, Allison."

"Impressed?" she repeated, clearly wanting clarification.

"Harmon Rabb. You've got him wrapped around your finger," Ari continued to smile. It was a charming, dangerous smile. Even she had trouble resisting it. Then she watched him gaze around the office in awe as he spoke, "And this office. You've been moving up the food chain."

"It's only a beginning," Krennick shrugged. She motioned towards the now empty office doorway. "Originally I thought Palmer could handle this, but he's still proving to be just as juvenile as ever."

"I understand. I'll follow them to Washington," Ari immediately obliged to her request. He turned to leave, but she called him back. He curiously gazed at her.

"I need you to make a call to the Tiner boy," Krennick grinned. "Tell him I want Mackenzie eliminated."

"So soon?" Ari chuckled, but his expression remained serious. He wasn't sure why this action needed to be taken.

"Like Palmer said. She killed Sadik," Krennick remained stoic as she finished her order, "If he doesn't do as told, then Jennifer Coates will suffer Mackenzie's fate instead."

Ari didn't question her motives a second time. Sadik Fahd was a genius and the glue that held The Seven together back in the early years. Sarah Mackenzie would pay for her insolence.

**April 18, 2004**

**Jason Tiner's Apartment**

**Fredricksburg**

His terrified scream probably woke the entire complex. Jason shot up abruptly forcefully pulling himself from the nightmare. He scrambled around, getting tangled up in his blankets. He was covered in a nervous, cold sweat as he fell out of his bed and down to the carpeted surface. Images of his buddy Ray Martinson filtered in and out of his memories. Ensign Ray Martinson. He was going to make a great lawyer someday, but then those dreams were suddenly dashed.

Jason crawled to his bathroom needing to splash cold water on his face. Every time he blinked, flashes of the nightmare reemerged. Hell, who was he kidding? This was worse than a nightmare. The images rolling around in his head actually happened. He blinked again after trying to keep his eyes open for far too long. He could see it happening all over again.

Metal baseball bats whistled as they flew through the air. The bone crushing sound they made when making contact with Ray's body. Strong hands were always holding Jason. All he could was watch.

Jason didn't know who they were, but their demands were crystal clear. Tail Colonel Mackenzie or another person close to him would suffer Ray's fate. At first he wondered why they picked him for such a task. Why did they have to beat Ray to the point of being paralyzed from the waist down? When Jason returned to JAG, he soon understood. Admiral Chegwidden was worried about his office. To quote him, it was in "shambles". Why? Because Commander Rabb was missing.

These people wanted someone watching the Colonel because they knew she wouldn't be able to keep to herself. Especially since Harm was involved. It didn't take a genius to figure that out. However, figuring this out didn't change his situation. They called him regularly. They wanted to make sure he was doing his job. Every few days, he would drive into Georgetown and park near the lot. Most times he beat her home, but he never failed to see her park her car, get out and head inside. Sometimes, she would pause and cautiously look around. He knew she felt his watchful gaze and this sickened him. She didn't deserve to be stalked. He still couldn't believe he was the stalker.

The cold water felt refreshing for a few moments, but the fiery hell that Jason was in returned with a vengeance. He could still see Ray's face. He could still hear his yelling for them to stop.

For the first few days, Ray was in a coma. Jason would visit him occasionally, but looking at him hurt too much.

Ray emerged from his coma and had limited memory of the incident. He insisted that it wasn't Jason's fault. That you always think these random attacks will happen to someone else. You just tend to forget that to everyone else, you _are_someone else

Ray was so convinced that he was assaulted randomly, but Jason knew better. The people who kidnapped Harm wanted him to spy on Colonel Mackenzie. They convinced him by scaring the shit out of him. They convinced him by attacking Ray.

Now they were threatening Jenn.

He crawled out of his bathroom, into his living room and then up onto his couch. He curled up there, remembering the other night when he "happened to run into" Mac and Clay at the coffee shop. Clay sent waves of venom through him and it wasn't hard to understand why. He shut his eyes tightly, that dreadful night coming back to him.

"_How did you find me?"_ Jason had cried out into the darkness. He was keeping Ray's head level, watching their attackers leave. _"How did you find me?"_

"_Ask Clayton Webb."_ That was their answer. Simple and clear. Go ask Clayton Webb. Jason wasn't sure how Clay was involved exactly. They never told him. However, he did know one thing. Clay had a knack for getting the people around him in trouble whether it be directly or indirectly. Somehow, Clay was the reason for his misery.

Gone were the days when life was simpler. He missed the old office. He wanted Admiral Chegwidden to reconsider this retirement nonsense. He wanted Jenn to trust him more, but he knew his erratic behavior was confusing her. He wanted to find some way to bring his mentor back. Harm belonged at JAG. The bullpen was so different without him. He wanted to tell Colonel Mackenzie the truth.

He ratted her out. He put her life in danger and for what? To protect himself? To protect Jenn? He grabbed at his hair wanting desperately to justify that he did the right thing, but he knew it was wrong. His phone rang causing him to jump. Who could that be calling this late?

"Hello?"

"You're doing a great job, Jason," the dark, distorted voice told him. "However, plans have changed. Mackenzie needs to be eliminated. Once this task is complete, we will no longer need your services."

"What?" Jason gasped, sitting up quickly. "No! I'm not a murderer!"

"You are now. Do it, or Jennifer Coates is next." The dial tone filled his ears. They were playing with him. They had to be playing with him, right?

He stared at the phone in shock and disbelief, then threw it across the room. The cord ripped out of the wall due to the force in which he cast it. He yelled, damning that organization for all that is was worth. Eventually, his shouting hurled him into a state of delirium then exhaustion. He collapsed to the floor, grasping at the carpeted surface.

He couldn't do this. There had to be somewhere he could go. Someone he could ask for help.

Before he realized it, he was holding his firearm. Sitting on the edge of his bed, staring at it. He hung his head, convinced he could never face his friends again. He mused how he never thought of himself as suicidal before.

Now the thought was very tempting.

To be continued. . .


	17. Caught In The Middle

Disclaimer: not mine

Previously: Krennick tasks Harm and Palmer to work together despite their utter hatred for one another.

Ari Haswari is revealed as Krennick's new right hand man and calls Jason Tiner to give him a new order: eliminate Colonel Mackenzie. As Jason holds onto his firearm, his mind has to decide whether to take the life of a friend or his own. . .

**The Seven**

by e-dog

Chapter Seventeen

"Caught In the Middle"

**April 18, 2004**

**Mac's Apartment**

**Georgetown**

Okay, there was no mistaking it that time.

She definitely heard something. Mac slowly sat up in her bed, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the darkness of her room. As if the day hadn't been long and trying enough, now she was hearing things in the dark. She was being paranoid, but she had good reason to be. She was constantly feeling eyes on her, but whose eyes she did not know. Her talk with Clay confirmed that Harm was in custody of The Seven and there was no doubt in her mind that they knew everything about her. It was tough to sleep in her own home knowing that any one of those goons could be right outside her door.

After a few more minutes of silence, she crashed back down into her pillows convinced once again that her mind was playing tricks on her. She tried sleeping, but that was pointless now. Not with her paranoia going into overdrive. She attempted to think about other things, but they all led back to the matter at hand. They all led back to Harm.

There was a message on her machine when she had arrived home today.

It was Agent Gibbs which didn't surprise her. His message started out explaining they had a new lead involving the death of Mark Daniels. Then he practically ordered that they have a talk tomorrow. Kate had informed him about her exchange with Clay. She suspected some activity bordering misconduct and impeding a federal investigation, which Mac couldn't argue with. Kate was simply doing her job.

Mac sighed, knowing she had nothing to hide. Besides, she could treat everything Clay told her as privileged information. That is the CIA motto after all: Need to know.

Right now, NCIS didn't have a need to know.

Her eyes widened as she heard the noise again. A thump. . .in her living room! She swiftly slid out of her bed and retrieved her firearm from her night stand. She crept up to her door and peeked into the living room. There was no one there.

Another thud, but this time she realized it was someone knocking on her door. Well, it wasn't really knocking. It sounded like labored efforts to pound on her door. Slow, methodical pounding that grew heavier with each contact.

She slowly made her way to her door and viewed a young man through her peephole. The head was down, so she couldn't make him out. She gripped her firearm bravely, then unlocked the door. She threw it open, pointing her gun at him. She froze in shock at her visitor, but was paying more attention to the weapon in his hand.

She whispered, "Oh God. . ."

**April 19, 2004**

**Mac's Apartment**

**Georgetown**

Agent Victor Galindez had seen some terrible things in his life.

Working in Afghanistan was no picnic. Prisoners demanded better treatment and often times attacked whoever they could to have their voices heard. Bombs constantly went off emphasizing the fact that one's life was in danger everyday. He believed there was nothing worse than the wasteland deserts of Afghanistan.

Then there was Paraguay. Terrorists constantly moving illegal goods, blowing up buildings and causing riots. Disguising themselves as the locals and creating complicated networks in which to ship their goods. They made tons of money this way. Not enough to purchase weapons of mass destruction, but enough money nonetheless. Usually, these operations were busted up before the money could be used for ill-gotten ways. Sadik Fahd was one of the "lucky" few to use his money and elude the CIA for at least a couple of years.

After Paraguay, Victor thought he would never hear from Clay (or anyone else for that matter) ever again. That mission had changed a lot of people. He even saw a change in himself. And as much as it hurt him, he didn't want to stick around for the aftermath. As soon as he was back in the States, he asked for a transfer to another office away from Clay and away from JAG. Victor was going to miss Harm, Mac and the rest of the JAG team, but he could tell things weren't going to end well. He could see the love triangle forming a mile away and the treacherous storm to follow was coming slowly but surely.

Victor approached her door. He never imagined he was going to reenter Mac's life this way. The information he was going to pass on literally _killed_ him. He still couldn't rationally fathom his friend doing what Clay claimed he was doing.

Jason Tiner was spying on Mac for The Seven. _"Are you sure, Clay? We're talking about the same Jason Tiner? 'Scrawny, once assumed to be gay ' Jason Tiner?"_ Victor only asked to make sure. This didn't sound like the yeoman he knew back at JAG. Clay told him that pictures didn't lie. He was just as surprised and insisted they were unaware of Jason's motives or intentions. He also added that he trusted the source.

Victor had asked what they were going to do about this. Clay was unsure. His boss hadn't given him any instructions as to what to do about Jason. Right now, they had to warn Mac of the impending danger. Clay finished by saying, "Thanks for doing this. I owe you."

Oh yeah. Clay definitely owed him. He took a deep breath, then knocked on the door. He heard a muffled, "Just one second!" It was her voice. It was nice to hear something familiar, even in such weird circumstances. She opened the door and immediately gave him a shocked stare, "Gunny?"

"Hello, ma'am," he smiled warmly at her. It was even better to see her face after all this time. An awkward moment ensued before Mac initiated a hug. He wrapped his arms around her and added, "And it's just Victor now, ma'am."

"Okay, Victor," Mac repeated a little too quickly, pulling out of the hug. She seemed a little unnerved and he knew it wasn't from the shock at seeing him again.

"Uh, I know this may seem strange, but I have a message to deliver to you. From Clay."

"From Clay?" Mac repeated, now her voice much softer and slightly hurt. She folded her arms and mumbled something like, "I haven't spoken to him in a few days. . ."

"Oh," Victor managed to say, not sure what to make of this situation. Her body language spoke volumes of disappointment. She most likely would've preferred Clay make this house call, so he tried to fix things, "Ma'am. I'm here because the situation requires delicacy. I'm sure Clay would've been here if he could. . ."

"I understand, Victor," she replied very uneasily. She shot a nervous glance over her shoulder then adverted her attention back to him. "This wouldn't happen to be about Tiner, would it?"

"Uh, actually, it is, ma'am," Victor told her. Now he was the one with the surprised expression.

"Well, he's here. Right now," Mac said in a much lower tone of voice. She opened the door wider to reveal the troubled young man sitting on her couch. Victor slowly stepped in to get a good look at his friend. Jason was slightly shaky, probably from nerves. His expression was also very indispose. Like his entire body hurt so much from the shaking. The features on his face glowed of green and it appeared he might vomit at any second.

Victor turned back to Mac, silently asking the one question on his mind. Mac shut her door and leaned on it as she spoke, "Jason came by to tell me that an organization ordered him to follow me."

"The Seven?" Victor repeated, his eyes widening some.

"He's not sure, but he thinks it's the same people who took Harm," Mac offered, knowing that wasn't enough to confirm whether it was The Seven or not. She sighed and finished, "They wanted him to report on my everyday activities. To determine if I was a threat."

"You're taking this news very well," Victor remarked, seeing how calm she was about the entire thing.

"To be honest, I want to scream," she said quietly, while tucking her hair behind her ears. She then nodded towards Tiner, "But right now, that doesn't seem like an option. He needs to know there is a strong support surrounding him. I'd hate for him to breakdown completely, if he hasn't already."

"Of course, ma'am," Victor nodded, still shocked that Clay had been right about Jason all along. He looked at his old friend and walked over to him. He sat down next to him, but Jason didn't acknowledge his presence. He tried bringing Jason back to reality by asking, "Are you okay?"

"No, not at all," Jason spoke with a fidgety twang in his voice. "I've been lying to all the people I care about for the last month. When they told me I had to. . .to. . ."

"It's okay. We're going to figure something out," Victor reassured him, then looked back up at Mac. He asked one more time, "Are you okay, ma'am?"

"I'll be fine, Victor," she sighed, still leaning against her door. "I'm more worried about what's going to happen to Jason and Jenn."

"Jennifer Coates?"

"Yeah. They threatened her life if Jason ever decided he was going to quit," Mac repeated Jason's words.

It was hard to believe she was even having this conversation. When Jason had showed up at her door the past night, his demeanor scared her. His hands were clammy, his speech was wobbly and unclear. What scared her the most was the fact he was holding a gun. The way he held it so loosely made her wonder if his basic training skipped the lesson on how to handle a firearm.

There were only three reasons he would need to have one. One: He was out to kill someone. Two: He wanted to protect himself. Three (the worst case scenario): He wanted to make it all go away.

After much mumbling, Mac finally deciphered what he was trying to say and took the gun from his hands. At first, she thought it was all crazy talk, but after a while she began to see that he was desperate. That he was frightened for his life.

Someone had ordered Jason Tiner, a close and dear friend, to follow her. To take pictures and to report on her everyday activities. Victor was right. She was taking this _very_ well. It wasn't like her life hadn't been a roller coaster this year. First Paraguay, then her relationship with Harm and Clay, killing Sadik, and finally Harm being kidnaped right from under her nose. Jason's confession, compared to everything else, just didn't seem to phase her. It was just another day in the life of Sarah Mackenzie.

For once, she wished for boredom. Just one boring day, where she could sit down and read a good book.

Maybe she would scream later.

"I'm so sorry, ma'am," Jason reiterated for the umpteenth time. "I just didn't know what else to do. . ."

"It's okay, Jason," she tried to insist, attempting to keep her own voice from shaking. Harm had once joked that Tiner's mother probably still made his meals for him. It was all too clear to everyone that Jason Tiner was an innocuous, endearing young man who had been fortunate enough not to have seen the horrors of the world. He seemed completely oblivious to all of that until now.

Before Victor's arrival, she had to hold Jason for nearly an hour. She listened to him cry and she began to feel like a mother who never wanted to let her child go. She wanted to make everything disappear and make fake promises of a bright future, just so he could stop crying. He felt responsible for so many things that weren't his fault. Especially the tragedy that befell his friend, Ray.

She waited as Jason repeated everything he told her, to Victor. However, he always stopped short of the one thing that brought him to her in the first place. The "voice on the phone" told him to do something, but he could never repeat what it was. Mac wouldn't dare let her mind wander on what his task was supposed to be.

Victor released a heavy sigh after the story was over. He ran a hand through his short locks and said, "Okay, I definitely didn't anticipate this."

"Gunny?" Mac called softly. He looked up to see her walking away towards the kitchen. He took this as his cue to follow. When he reached her, she appeared to be conflicted. Something was weighing on her mind. He had no doubt it had something to do with Harm.

"Ma'am?" Victor took a seat on the edge of the table, waiting on her to speak.

"He said something about Clay," Mac recalled, pressing her lips together as she tried to piece the words together correctly. She gave Victor a worried look, "Jason thinks Clay is the reason all of this happened to him."

"Do you believe that?" Victor asked, completely taken aback with this bit of news.

"I can't deny that Clay has done some underhanded things in his life, but I can't believe any of Jason's misfortunes are Clay's fault," Mac answered him truthfully. She couldn't help but express one small fear, "If Clay were the reason Jason is involved in all of this. . that would mean he was working for. . ."

"There's no way Clay is involved with The Seven, ma'am," Victor forced a smile. "Someone lied to Tiner. That's the only logical explanation." She nodded meekly, clearly something else on her mind. He folded his hands and asked, "Is that all you wanted to say, ma'am?"

"I can't stay here anymore," she confessed.

"I'm not sure I understand."

"I can't live here knowing those people want me dead," Mac elaborated, before getting to the root of her true desire. "I want in. I want to be in whatever Clay is in. I'm sick of sitting on the sidelines."

"Mac. . .," Victor gasped slightly. He wasn't sure why this shocked him so much. He was more surprised she hadn't demanded this action earlier. He stood up in protest anyway, more concerned for her safety, "Do you honestly think it'll be any more secure out there?"

"At least out there, I'll be in control of something," Mac almost hissed. Her tone low and dangerously dark. "Agent Gibbs is breathing down my neck because he suspects me of misconduct. . ."

"Is he right?"

Mac ignored his question, adverting her eyes to stare at Jason, "He could've very well been sent here to kill me. . ."

"We don't know that."

"How do we know that he wasn't?" Her question cut through him like a knife and he had no reply. Mac turned away from him, slowly walking back into the other room. Her retreating form sending him volumes of disappointment. He instantly asked her to wait. She faced him once more, arms folded aggressively across her chest. An expression of complete emotional torment. Dark circles under the eyes indicated the lack of sleep she'd had in the last few weeks. Lips curled down into the deepest frown he had ever seen. He shoved his hands into his pockets, feeling highly uncomfortable and unsure of what to do. He looked at the floor as he half-promised, "I'll talk to Clay."

Her response was a small, "Thank you."

**April 19, 2004**

**Higgins Road**

**Chicago, Northwest Side**

Vaughn was on the sidewalk, bent over tying his sneaker. It was one of those rare, gorgeous spring days in Chicago and there wasn't a cloud in sight. He enjoyed the spoils of the day as much he could before concentrating on the matter at hand. He glanced to his right. Across the street was a dark, grey Buick. Two men were seated in the front, snacking on potato chips and soft drinks. Vaughn didn't want to stare for too long, but he recognized one of the oversized brutes. He stood back up, checked his watch and started to jog down Higgins Road again. He passed Harm's building for the second time, got to the end of the block and crossed the street. He swiftly raced up some stairs and into the shabby entrance of a crappy motel.

Up one more flight of stairs and a past a few doors, he reached his destination. He entered their room and shut the door behind him. Dixon and Sydney were there, unpacking surveillance equipment. They paused what they were doing on his entrance. Vaughn wiped sweat off his brow and Dixon tossed him a water bottle. "Thanks."

"So?" Dixon glanced at Vaughn, waiting on the report.

"Two of them, parked in a grey Buick," Vaughn smacked his lips, enjoying the refreshing liquid. "This side of town is basically abandoned. There aren't too many residents, except the people who live in Harm's apartment complex."

"Just two?" Sydney repeated.

"No, I think there's one in back, but I'm not sure about him," Vaughn told her. "I couldn't get a good enough look without seeming suspicious. There is one thing, though."

He walked over to their laptop, took a seat at the desk and logged onto a wireless network. He typed quickly and then a picture was displayed. Both Sydney and Dixon looked over his shoulder as he announced, "Meet Buciac Reznik. Born in the Czech Republic. He's bounced around between various terrorist organizations including The Covenant. Now it's obvious he's with The Seven."

"His name sounds familiar," Sydney remarked.

"It should. He is one of Julian Sark's many contacts," Vaughn clarified, a slight agitation in his tone.

"Sark?" Sydney repeated, to which Vaughn nodded.

Julian Sark was a prime example of everything that was dishonest and unethical. His loyalties changed at a whim. Sark would work diligently for any organization willing to pay him and protect him. On the other hand, if he saw an opportunity to further himself, he would do so in a heartbeat. As vile as Sark was, Vaughn's utter distaste for him was for another reason. His now deceased wife, Lauren Reed, had an affair with Sark. (Not to mention, Lauren was a double agent betraying the United States and her husband at the same time.) It was understandable why Vaughn was clearly troubled that Sark could know anything about The Seven.

Dixon could sense the tension rising in the room. He piped up, "If Sark knows Reznik, there's a good chance he knows something about The Seven."

"That's what I was thinking," Vaughn agreed, sounding a little more together. His memories of Lauren and Sark were behind him for now. "We should let Sloane know."

"Good idea," Dixon nodded and went in search of one of their cell phones.

With that taken care of, Sydney looked at Vaughn, "Now it's time to extract Rabb. What's the best way to get in?"

Vaughn sighed, "I'm not sure there is a best way. Harm told us they watch him closely. We have to assume that whole complex is completely run by The Seven."

Sydney folded her arms, walking over to their window. She peered out, staring straight at Harm's building. She could see the car, but her eyes spotted other clues. A man was leaning on a post reading a paper. He held a cigar in his mouth, unlit and dangling carelessly. Across the street was another man just leaning on a wall. He occasionally looked at his cell phone, but Sydney doubted he was checking his messages. Vaughn was probably right. This whole street could be Seven territory.

One option did enter her mind, "We'll have to wait until he comes out. Follow the car and see where it takes us."

"Those weren't our orders, Syd," Vaughn warned her. He rose from his chair, shutting the laptop and taking long strides to stand next to her. He corrected her and said, "We'll wait for him to come out. Then bring him home."

Her expression was indifferent as she said, "Sloane could have us follow him right to their headquarters. Why won't he let us?"

"Are you doubting his intentions?" came Dixon's voice from behind them. They turned around to face him, his kind yet strong features showing his dubiety. He stared at them thoughtfully, "I had asked myself that same question."

"Look, I know we have our reasons to distrust Sloane, but he's still our boss," Vaughn reasoned, his voice clearly showing his conflict. Then he looked out the window to spy their target. "Harm's leaving. Right now."

"Let's go," Sydney ordered, quickly grabbing a briefcase and her jacket. Dixon grabbed the car keys and Vaughn the weapons and ammunition. They were all still struggling on their end goal as they hurried out to their vehicle. Extract him or follow him?

It wouldn't take them long to figure out their next move. Harm was already loaded up in the car and it was speeding away. For now, they just had to follow him. Dixon drove keeping four car lengths between him and Reznik's grey Buick. Sydney checked the ammo in one of the firearms and tossed it to Vaughn in the back.

"Thanks," he said blandly, watching her load another pistol. She merely nodded, not sure what to say at this point. Dixon remained quiet as well. It seemed they were going to let fate decide. About ten minutes into the ride, they found themselves at a standstill in rush hour traffic. Reznik's automobile was five car lengths ahead of them in the lane to their right.

----------------------------

The Buick reeked of cigarette smoke. Reznik's partner was lighting another one up, but he refused to put down the window. Harm straightened his tie for the umpteenth time, trying to concentrate on something other than his current mission and the awful smell permeating his nostrils. It was one thing to be forced to work alongside Clark Palmer. It was another to be working with Palmer and carrying out an assassination order. He was not a killer.

He was not a killer.

What was he saying? He did kill those police officers in Germany. He even dreamed about killing, but certainly not innocent people. He dreamed about getting rid of Allison Krennick. Making her pay for all the damage she caused. For disrupting Mac's life and Tiner's. For killing Mark and the others. For torturing Chris Locke until Harm pledged his allegiance to The Seven. These thoughts of wanting to see her suffer were only derailed by other thoughts of confusion. He still couldn't understand what made Krennick the woman she was today. He still couldn't understand why she picked him.

Even Gareth had gone as far to point out that she wasn't always this bitter. Gareth knew the Krennick that Harm remembered from all those years ago. Sure, she was a bit over the top back then but there was never this immorality beaming from her like there was now. There was never this need to control everything around her. Unfortunately, her infatuation with him had continued to exist. It was the only piece of her that was recognizable.

Harm felt the car turn and he strained to see through the tinted windows. They were now traveling down a relatively empty road that eventually led to the parking garage of The Seven. Car horns sounded loudly behind them as they began to leave the busy streets. The noise helped to break up Harm's thoughts occasionally. He needed the distraction to keep from over thinking his situation.

Reznik and his partner were sitting up front, silent as usual. They rarely talked on these trips back and forth from his apartment to Headquarters. He didn't usually mind, but the silence was unbearably loud today. . .

Suddenly, gun shots sounded and Harm could hear loud popping sounds from all sides. The car suddenly dipped lower to the ground. He looked around frantically, realizing the tires had been blown out. Someone was shooting at them! He tried the handle on his door, but it was locked. Reznik immediately hopped out of the car with his gun in hand. Moments later, Reznik fell back in with a dart in his neck. He struggled to pull it out, but passed out before he could. The passenger side window was busted open and Harm shielded himself from the flying glass. He heard a grunt and it was over.

The doors unlocked and he felt daylight on his face. He opened his eyes and saw his chance for freedom. His chance to go home.

Sydney reached in and he grabbed her hand. He was yanked out and quickly led through the maze of parked cars. Another gunshot was heard and Harm ducked down and covered his head. Before he could see anything, Sydney pushed him down to the ground and told him to stay there. Harm watched her race towards the fallen agent. Harm only remembered him as Mr. Latimore from Mr. Giacomo's restaurant, but he managed to catch his real name. Sydney addressed him as Vaughn while she tried to help him to his feet. Vaughn was clutching his abdomen and wincing in pain.

Harm remained on the ground, using the various cars to shield himself. Who knew how many more of Krennick's people were out there. After another quick glance to his left, he spotted another goon racing towards him. Seeing how he was weaponless, Harm rose his hands in surrender, but watched the goon shake viciously. Three bullets to the chest threw him to the ground, killing him.

Naturally, all of this commotion was drawing attention from the main streets. People simply taking a stroll had now stopped and taken cover on the ground. They gawked at Harm. They watched Sydney as she dragged Vaughn to the car. Others who valued their lives more were desperately trying to drive away from all the flying bullets.

Harm felt like staying on the ground, but a strong hand rested on his shoulder. He looked up into the eyes of an African-American man who's kind face oddly reminded him of Sturgis. He was holding a rifle in his hands and urged him to the car, "I'm Agent Dixon, Mr. Rabb."

Into the car he was shoved and as soon as the door shut, Dixon literally pushed Reznik's car out of the way. Soon, their car was racing as fast as it could away from the scene.

**April 19, 2004**

**CIA Safehouse**

**Somewhere in Chicago**

Harm had removed his coat and tie. They were splayed on the couch next to him. He was leaning back into the cushions as far as he could possibly go. Trying to hide. Trying to disappear. For some reason, a part of him didn't want this. He didn't want to go home. Not now. It wasn't time.

He bit his lower lip anxiously to keep from biting his nails. He had never been a nail biter until his kidnapping. Now, it was a habit he was finding hard to break. Chewing on his chapped lips was probably not the best alternative, however.

He heard some soft padding on the carpet to discover it was Sydney. She was walking daintily, assuming he was asleep. Seeing that he wasn't, she smiled her hello. He smiled back. She remained on the other side of the room, keeping space between them as she asked, "How are you doing, Mr. Rabb?"

"Okay," Harm lied, knowing he felt everything but okay. He scratched his head to quell this annoying itch that had been bothering him all morning. He saw the confused expression on her face, then tried to explain, "There's something. . .something bothering me. About this."

"Want to talk about it?" she offered.

"Not really. How's Agent Vaughn?" Harm quickly changed the subject. He still hadn't sorted out his own feelings. He wasn't sure how he could explain them to her.

"The vest managed to withstand most of the impact. It was at such close range, the bullet still pierced his flesh, but it's nothing he can't handle," Sydney told him, her eyes trying to read his troubling demeanor.

Slowly but surely, that fighter pilot calm overtook him and his nerves left him. He had to admit, the shootout had shaken him somewhat. These people were risking their lives to help him. One of them could've died. The thought of going home sounded incredibly delightful, but he knew he couldn't go. He heard her ask something like, "Are you thirsty?"

"Uh, yeah. Water." Then he held up a hand to stop her and said reluctantly, "I can't leave, Ms. Bristow."

"Harm, the last time we spoke, you practically begged me to extract you," Sydney objected. "Besides, this is non-negotiable. You're coming back and you're going to give us everything you know."

"No, look I wasn't thinking before," Harm tried to clarify, his tone tranquil and urgent all at the same time. He paused, trying to explicate his thoughts as best he could. "I've learned things in the past few hours that I can't ignore. One of my good friends is being blackmailed to tail my partner and someone else from my past has resurfaced. Not to mention, Krennick is sending me off again on another mission. . ."

"Wait, wait," Sydney sighed, furrowing her brow in confusion. "Who is tailing your partner? And who is Krennick and where is he sending you to?"

Harm chuckled lightly and corrected her, "Krennick is a _she_."

He stood up now, pacing the floor and absentmindedly viewing the furniture around the small house. After he was satisfied with whatever he was looking at, he motioned for her to sit on the couch. As he stood there, staring at the floor, she watched him in awe. The urgent need to finish her assignment was gone. Harm didn't want to leave and his demeanor made that okay. He was suddenly amazingly calm and collected and this fascinated her. She sat down as instructed and asked, "Are you always this passive, Harm?"

"Hmm?" he murmured, coming back to the land of the living. He shook his head and gave a half smile, "The past couple of years have. . .humbled me, I suppose."

"I've read your file," Sydney answered him, folding her hands and placing them in her lap. "You've done some astonishing things for a lawyer."

"Yeah, even now, I look back and say. . .wow," Harm mused, crossing the room back to the couch, taking a seat next to her. He finally felt it was time to talk about this. "Allison Krennick and I used to work together. I thought I knew her. When she dragged me here and I saw her for who she really was, I just. . ."

Harm paused, finally some emotion etched across his forehead causing it to wrinkle in frustration. Sydney could feel every emotion he was feeling now and she felt obligated to say something. She lightly touched his arm and said softly, "I know what it's like. . .working for someone you hate."

Harm shuddered under her touch. He shivered as if it had been so long since he'd felt anyone reach out to give him comfort. He slowly turned to look at her, his eyes begging for answers. She wasn't sure what he was looking for, but she spoke of what she knew from her own experience, "My boss. . .Arvin Sloane. A long time ago, he lied to me. He killed my fiancé, my best friend and I promised myself I would kill him for what he did to me."

Harm just nodded, appreciating the strangely consoling words. He could tell by listening to her that she wasn't making up some elaborate story to relate to him. He looked away from her, suddenly feeling ashamed.

"She killed Mark," Harm muttered, trying not to get emotional. He hadn't really cried since he first heard the news about Mark's death, but the tears were threatening again. He was never given time to grieve and now seemed like a good time to do so. Sydney grabbed his hand, acknowledging his heartache. Harm looked at her, "She's killed others. . .close to me. I want her dead. I can't believe I'm saying that. . .but. . ."

"Don't feel ashamed, Harm," Sydney told him sincerely.

"I'm not a murderer!" he proclaimed, as if trying to convince himself and not her.

"Of course you're not," Sydney replied, empathizing completely. "But if you want to be a double agent, you have to stay strong. I've made the mistake of letting my hate consume me. As a result, I've made some poor decisions. . ."

"I understand," he nodded quickly and held on to her hand for dear life. "I understand the consequences. It's just hard because every time I see her I want to. . ."

"Strangle her? Make her suffer the pain she caused you?" Sydney filled in for him. Harm finally made full eye contact with this woman sitting next to him. It was nice to have someone completely understand his predicament. It was nice not to be alone anymore. It was easier to know that Sydney, Clay, and hopefully Mac were out there helping him from the sidelines.

He released his hand from hers, feeling slightly embarrassed for nearly breaking down in front of her. He cleared his throat and told her, "I'll tell you everything I know, but I can't leave now. Not when I'm in this deep."

"Please understand, there is no longer any pressure from us to make you a double agent," Sydney tried again, but she could see there was no changing his mind. He was going to stay.

**April 19, 2005**

**APO Headquarters**

**Somewhere in Los Angeles**

Clay sat on the edge of the desk, glancing at his watch occasionally. He folded his hands, then heard the alarm sound. It was time to initiate shut-down procedures. Someone who didn't belong at APO was arriving at that very moment. He watched as computer monitors flashed to a CIA screensaver. Some emergency lights flashed on and agents cleared their desks of compromising material.

Then the door opened. The man's face was covered with a black hood, but his hands and legs were free of shackles. Two agents flanked him, leading the way by holding his arms. Clay stood up to greet the visitor as they pulled the hood off.

Victor blinked his eyes to readjust to the light, then spied Clay. He looked around then whistled, "Wow, Webb. What the hell did you get yourself into? Why all the secrecy?"

"I'll explain later," Clay promised, then remarked wittingly. "I hear there's a problem."

Victor continued to stare in veneration at the office, then nodded, "Yeah. We definitely need to talk."

To be continued. . .


	18. All Together Now

Disclaimer: not mine

Previously: Mac and AJ have been given invitations to a gala in honor of world renowned humanitarian Leslie Dozier (Chapter 11).

Mac is surprised when not only Tiner shows up at her place, but Victor Galindez does as well! She fears that Tiner was sent to kill her for The Seven and expresses her frustration. She wants to be where Clay is so she can help find Harm.

The APO team is successful in extracting Harm, but Sydney finds herself in a dilemma when Harm confesses he's not ready to go home yet.

**The Seven**

by e-dog

Chapter 18

"All Together Now"

**April 19, 2004**

**CIA Safehouse**

**Somewhere in Chicago**

After a quick power nap, Harm was awakened and told it was nearly time to go. After a splash of cold water on his face, he was ready. He leaned in the doorway of the bedroom, watching the other agents gather their luggage. There had been a long discussion. Firstly, Harm's new mission to assassinate Leslie Dozier. Everyone wanted to find some way to prevent this, especially Harm.

The next order of business entailed Harm's decision to be a double agent. Naturally, Agents Dixon and Vaughn were against allowing Harm back inside that organization. On the other hand, there seemed to be an internal battling going on amongst all of them that seemed to have nothing to do with his double agency at all. After all was said and done, Harm couldn't decide if they agreed with him or not.

A few calls were made. Whoever Sloane was, absolutely dissented Harm's demands. Extraction was key to their mission and "vital for Mr. Rabb's safety." Sydney argued back, her support for Harm increasing with every passing second. Dixon and Vaughn merely sat back and listened. Their minds still not made up.

Either way, a decision had been made by the higher ups. It was hard to say if everyone concurred.

So, now it was time to leave. Vaughn's fingers typed feverishly across his laptop, trying to complete last minute details before taking off for Los Angeles. He could hear Dixon behind him gathering the last of their luggage and equipment. Sydney was there too, standing over him and watching him work. He pushed the ENTER key and watched the screen confirm the action. He glanced up at her, "It's done. Signal sent."

Sydney seemed pleased. "Good. Let's get going. We have a plane to catch."

**Airport**

**Undisclosed Location**

The moment they stepped out of the hanger, all hell broke lose. The bullets came from all directions as Harm rolled away and took cover behind a wall. Sydney and Vaughn had rolled in the opposite direction. Dixon had retreated further back into the hanger to shield himself from the barrage of slugs. For a few minutes, Harm watched the CIA team return fire. He knew they were severely outnumbered.

There was a lull in the shooting. It appeared the attackers weren't going to advance just yet giving Sydney the opportunity to run over to Harm. She kneeled down next to him and held up a firearm, "You're going to need this."

Harm took it, checked the ammo and smiled, "Thanks."

Then he turned the gun on her. Sydney gave him a look of alarm and slowly put up her hands. "Harm? What are you doing?"

"I'm going back," Harm told her in a sinister voice. Before she could react, he shot her in the chest. Sydney fell back, immediately causing Vaughn to jump up and come to her rescue. How predictable. Harm immediately stood up and shot Vaughn. He also fell to the ground, his body going limp. Harm then turned around to face Dixon. They both stood there in a standoff, neither one willing to drop their weapons. Footsteps were heard from all around. Before he realized it, Dixon was surrounded. He slowly put his weapon down and rose his hands in surrender. Harm could hear a familiar voice whistle in amazement.

"Wow. Nice shooting, partner."

"I am _not_ your partner," Harm reminded Palmer, then fired. Dixon fell to the ground. Harm stared at his now exhausted gun, then tossed it away from him. He glared at Palmer, his eyes inflamed with anger and remorse, "Fire Reznik. I want a new bodyguard. I don't ever want to be put in that position again. "

"Hey, as long as you remain loyal, the amount of people you kill per week can easily be reduced to one or two," Palmer joked, slapping a hand on Harm's back. Harm cringed. Palmer was becoming way too chummy and highly annoying. He watched as his "partner" shouted out orders to move out and to leave the bodies to rot. In ten minutes flat, the entire recon team gathered up in their vans and cars and sped away. Their mission to reclaim Harm was complete.

Sydney opened one eye to make sure the coast was clear, then sat up cautiously. One last sweep and she determined they were all alone once again. She looked over her shoulder and called, "Vaughn?"

"I'm okay," he said back, sitting up as well. He dusted himself off as he joked, "Good thing those were blanks."

"Otherwise, we really would be dead," Dixon added, rising from the floor as well.

Sydney couldn't help but agree with them. They stood there together as she made the call back to APO. "They took the bait and traced the signal to the airport. Harm put on an excellent show and he's back inside."

Jack was on the other end of the line, "The tracer?"

"Harm told us that was pointless and I'm inclined to believe him. Krennick is very thorough and still has no reason to trust him," she sighed. "I didn't want to risk blowing his cover. . ."

"Understood," Jack told her, but he was clearly disappointed she disobeyed a direct order. "Due to some recent developments, Chase has agreed to a joint meeting between the different branches involved in this case."

"Is that wise?" Sydney asked.

"The situation is requiring we step in and issue some manner of control. It seems NCIS and Colonel Mackenzie know too much about The Seven. Did you go over the counter mission with Rabb?"

"He knows what to do," Sydney confirmed. "We're heading for D.C. now. We'll see you there."

**April 20, 2004**

**JAG Headquarters**

**Falls Church, VA**

She sped down the highway with urgency. She had called AJ, requesting he come in a little earlier than usual. She needed to talk to him. Anyway, thanks to traffic, she was running a little late. The last thing she wanted was to piss off a very grumpy Admiral (whom she called in early in the first place) by being late.

Mac let her visor down to block the sun and a piece of paper fell. After coming to a stop at a traffic light, she retrieved the paper from the floor only to discover it was a small card. The invitation to the gala in D.C honoring Leslie Dozier. She groaned as she realized she had completely forgotten about it. It felt strange looking back to only five days ago. Jason Tiner was the one who had given the invitation to her, explaining the SecNav demanded her attendance was mandatory. Now Jason was holed up in a brig somewhere, thanks to Victor. He had to arrest Jason for his own safety. Surely if he were surrounded by guards in a little cell, The Seven had no chance to punish him for defecting. It seemed too cruel to lock him up, but it truly was the safest thing they could do.

Before she knew it, she had arrived at JAG. Mac parked her 'Vette in the lot. The moment she exited her vehicle, she spotted Victor leaning on his car. Her heart beat faster in anticipation. Yesterday, he left to speak to Clay about her need to join his unit. By the look on Victor's face, the news he was going to deliver didn't seem promising. She approached him and he immediately apologized, "I'm sorry, ma'am."

"Clay has dragged me into other CIA missions before. Many times against my will. What makes this so different?" Mac asked, as they walked up to JAG together.

"He's got a new boss," Victor told her, opening the door for her. She gave him a curious look. "I know what you want to ask, ma'am. I'm sorry. I can't."

"He's not CIA anymore?" she asked anyway.

"I really can't say where he is or who he is working for," Victor insisted in a very apologetic way. "I just know he is working for the good guys. He wants to help Harm, you can trust me on that."

----------------------------

Admiral AJ Chegwidden paced his office slowly. It was early. It was way too early for this.

Most of the officers hadn't arrived for work yet, but Mac called him saying it was important that they meet now. He squinted his eyes as her story came out rapidly. The whole ordeal was rather perplexing and intriguing.

There was something about Tiner spying on her than another thing about Clay knowing where Harm was located. He wanted to ask more about Harm, but Mac was on a roll. Gunny had showed up out of the blue wanting to address the issue about Tiner, but she already knew about it before he got there. Finally, there were mentions about Harm being held captive by some group called The Seven. Most times he had to tell her stop, just to make sure he heard certain parts correctly. It was an amazing account of events that he was unaware were taking place. Had he really been living under a rock for the last few months?

Whether he was inattentive or not, Mac had kept all of this information a secret from him. From NCIS. From everyone except Bud who helped her figure out what Harm had been trying to say all along. Come to think of it, he was going to have to speak to Bud about withholding information as well.

"Did you really think going after Harm by yourself was the best idea?" he asked her gently. "The SecNav could have your six on a silver platter for keeping this information to yourself."

They were both seated in the cushioned, maroon office chairs. She was using her elbow to support herself on the arm of the chair, her head rested in her hand. She looked at her CO, an embarrassed smile crossing her face. "I don't know, sir. I mean, it was stupid. I didn't even have a plan. It was just a driving thought process that wouldn't leave me alone."

"Kind of reminds me of someone," AJ remarked, tapping a finger against his cheek.

"Who?" she asked dumbly. She knew exactly who he was talking about.

"Harm," he answered her anyway. "Almost a year ago, he ran off to Paraguay without a plan."

Mac simply nodded, remembering all too well Harm bursting in and saving her six. She chuckled, "At least Harm had a machine gun and a map. I don't even have an inkling of where he could be. That's part of the reason I haven't boarded a plane to go anywhere. . .yet."

AJ frowned slightly at Mac's use of the word "yet". He studied her expression knowing full well, that if information on Harm came this very second, she would be on the next flight out. Forget her career or how hard she's worked to get this far. Harm acted almost immediately on the news of Mac's disappearance in Paraguay. While it took her a little longer to react, he knew it was only a matter of time before she began to act just as boneheaded as her partner.

"So what's next?" AJ asked softly and calmly.

Mac glanced up at her CO. He was surprisingly cool and collected. Maybe he understood angry tempers weren't going to help here. He wanted Harm back just as much as everyone else at the office.

"I talked to Victor about it," she sat up and straightened out her skirt nervously. "He went to see Clay about arranging a meeting of sorts to take place here in about an hour. Clay wants you to be there."

"A meeting?" AJ looked up, an eyebrow raising.

"This whole Tiner mess is complicated," Mac sighed. "NCIS wants to investigate and arrest Tiner. The CIA wants to haul Tiner in for their own agenda and kick NCIS to the curb. I, on the other hand, would rather see Tiner have a week's paid vacation to Florida so he can clear his head. I'm afraid for his mental health, sir."

"I see," AJ said, stroking his chin in thought. He countered with concerns of his own, "I'm worried about your mental health, Mac."

"I'm fine, sir." The overused line sounded flat even to her ears. An awkward tension was in the air. AJ's overwhelming fear for her well-being would only result in one thing if she didn't act now. "I can handle this case, sir."

"I know you _think_ you can handle it, Mac," AJ retorted. He didn't think she would pick up on his feelings so quickly, so he now he had to act fast. His forehead wrinkled in worry as he pressed, "Drowning yourself in work. Keeping secrets from me. Keeping in touch with NCIS all the while talking to Webb behind their backs! So far, you've been doing a hell of job. I'm glad to see that you're handling it."

She could hear his sarcasm. She wanted to slap him. She wanted to run off, find Harm and end this craziness once and for all. If only things were that simple. She had been able to stay in control for this long, she could surely keep her composure now. Besides, she could understand AJ's frustrations. Her actions were definitely not by-the-book. Her behavior would surely take a turn for the worse if she wasn't careful.

"Mac. ..I'm not asking you to forget what happened," AJ sighed, leaning back in the chair.

"I was at his apartment when it happened, sir. I know everyone keeps telling me I shouldn't blame myself, but I was there and I couldn't save him." Mac stared at the floor concentrating on nothing at all. She expected him to fight her on this. She almost wanted him to. She needed an excuse to scream at someone, but he didn't grant her wish. Instead he stood up and motioned she stand as well. She did as told and questioned, "Sir?"

AJ straightened his sleeves and asked, "This meeting. It's probably going to be a pain in the ass? A battle over jurisdiction?"

"Most likely."

"Let's get this over with, Colonel," AJ said confidently. Mac involuntarily plastered a relieved and grateful smile on her face. While AJ didn't always agree with her, he always seemed to understand and sympathize. She walked out of the office ahead of him and he followed reluctantly.

He asked himself for the millionth time in the last month, _Harm, what did you get yourself into to cause this much trouble?_

**Conference Room**

**JAG Headquarters**

**Falls Church, Virginia**

Mac gazed around the long table, taking in a sight she'd never thought possible. Down the table on her left sat Gibbs, Kate and Tony all clad in NCIS gear. Tony was the only one still wearing his baseball cap, smacking on gum and still trying to wake up. According to Kate, he had a rough night with a blind date. This story helped Mac to smile in amusement, if only for a few moments. Kate, who was always prepared, was awake and alert. Gibbs had his usual coffee, which he occasionally sipped. He was giving the rest of the patrons gathered here his stiff, grim glare. He was ready for battle. Mac began to wonder if she was even ready for this.

Down the table on her right sat the two person CIA team. At least they claimed to be CIA. Clay along with a man named Jack Bristow. Clay seemed a little nervous, which was completely unlike him. He hadn't really bothered to talk to her and this naturally made her curious. This was when she suspected that Jack was the one in charge. In some freaky way, Jack reminded her of Gibbs with that same austere expression establishing his power and mental toughness. He definitely looked like someone who could stand up to Gibbs. Their interaction was going to be interesting, to say the least.

Across from her, sat AJ and Victor who looked just as uncomfortable as everyone else. Even though Victor was technically CIA, the JAG offices were his first home. He felt it pertinent to sit with them and support them in this little fight. He was mostly concerned about the well being of Tiner and what his fate would be. There were three more people they had to wait on before this meeting went underway. The SecNav, the Director of NCIS and a woman by the name of Hayden Chase (whom Mac assumed was Jack Bristow's boss) had yet to arrive.

"So, Mr. Bristow," Gibbs spoke up in a strong tone, breaking the silence. He took a quick sip of his hot beverage, flashed a rare smile and asked, "You a coffee drinker?"

Jack didn't smile back and Clay coughed uncomfortably. Gibbs took note of Clay's awkwardness by briefly looking at him, then focusing his attention on the other CIA agent again. Jack finally responded with, "No, Agent Gibbs. I abhor the stuff."

Tony whistled at that comment, indicating the war had begun. Jack had insulted Gibbs's coveted beverage. Mac tensed up slightly, already sensing a storm brewing amongst everyone here. Even Kate had on a no-nonsense expression, preparing for the worst. Gibbs nodded, sipped his coffee again and set his cup down. He leaned back and asked, "What do you like, Mr. Bristow?"

"I would appreciate it if you would address me as Agent Bristow," Jack ordered and Mac watched Clay sink lower into his chair. Jack remained still, never blinking. Never changing the look on his face. "Secondly, your attempts at breaking the ice are not working. I suggest trying something else."

Gibbs let an amused grin cross his face. He nodded, acknowledging Jack had won this round. Mac glanced at Victor, who then glanced over at AJ. The three of them took deep breaths, just as the conference doors swung open. There stood the three who would be in charge of this meeting. First to enter was the Secretary of the Navy, Edward Sheffield. Immediately, everyone stood up, but SecNav Sheffield waved them off, "I understand we have urgent matters to discuss. Let's not waste time with cordial greetings."

"Yes sir," AJ nodded, and motioned for everyone to sit again. Sheffield pounced on the opportunity to grab hold of the reins.

"Under the circumstances, Colonel, I'm excusing the fact you withheld information from us," Sheffield announced, getting that out of the way and making his decision final.

Mac couldn't help but sigh relieved and said, "Thank you, sir."

"What are the current state of affairs surrounding Ensign Jason Tiner?" Sheffield asked promptly, as he took a seat at the head of the table. He was gaining steam and didn't want to lose control of the floor.

No one gave an answer. Mac glanced around, taking in the chilling appearances of the Big Three.

Sheffield was a short Caucasian man, with a strong opinion and he possessed the uncanny ability to be irritatingly nosy.

Director Chase was an African American woman with short black hair, wearing a sleek navy blue business suit and gave a stare that could kill. On her way in, she glanced at Jack first before addressing anyone else with a curt nod.

Director Morrow, (the less frightening of the three) looked like your everyday blue collar guy except in a suit and tie. He smoothed what little hair he had on his head before taking his seat next to Sheffield at the head of the table.

"Ensign Tiner is being held in the brig for his own protection," Victor finally spoke up to answer the question. "He believes his life is now in danger. . .as well as his colleague, Petty Officer Jennifer Coates."

"He spied for the enemy, that is treason," Gibbs spoke up, effectively cutting off Victor's explanation. Mac sighed. _And so it begins. . ._

"He was being blackmailed, Agent Gibbs," Jack reminded him. "There's a difference between treason and coercion." Jack then addressed the rest of the table, "Not to mention, this organization has threatened the lives of others if Ensign Tiner does not do as they say."

"And while you make a valid point, Agent Bristow, Ensign Tiner still could've come to the authorities," Director Morrow pushed, backing up Gibbs's earlier statement. He then glanced at Mac, "Just like the Colonel could've told us about the phone call."

Mac cringed. Despite Sheffield's blessing of letting it go, it seemed NCIS would shove that in her face for the rest of the meeting. If only they had heard the desperation in Harm's voice. If only they had seen Jason's face when he showed up at her apartment. It was clear both men were scared senseless and telling NCIS would've gotten them killed. She believed this with all her heart.

She had to commend Morrow on one thing though. Morrow was fighting Jack Bristow knowing the CIA wanted Tiner, not to punish him, but to grill him. They wanted to sit him under a brilliant light and push for answers that the young man probably didn't have. Right now, that was the last thing Tiner needed. He was messed up enough as it was and being locked up in a brig somewhere wasn't helping his situation either.

"With all due respect, Director," Mac addressed him, showing she was not afraid to join in this argument. "I know Jason. What you are accusing him of completely goes against his character and morals. . ."

"With all due respect, Colonel," Chase interrupted them and gave a taut smile. "I think your close relationship with _Jason_ is clouding your judgement."

Finally, AJ cut in, wanting to end this argument. For right now, Tiner was safe. "While taking care of Ensign Tiner is important. . .we have the small matter of a terrorist group to take care of."

"AJ is right," Sheffield agreed, now looking at Director Morrow. "We should inform all parties of everything we know, then act on that information accordingly."

To this suggestion, everyone remained silent. No one wanted to give up anything to the other. It was mostly pride, Mac assumed, but if they kept up this behavior then this meeting would accomplish nothing.

"Our information is classified, Mr. Secretary," Clay joined in for the first time, suddenly looking like the confident, brash CIA agent Mac knew him to be. "We hold jurisdiction here, so whatever NCIS has. . .whatever anyone in this rooms knows, they are obligated to tell us. This is non-negotiable."

Gibbs chuckled obnoxiously on purpose. Tony and Kate also remained tightlipped, indicating they were not saying anything to anyone until they were officially included. Director Morrow spoke up, now backing up his team, "Actually, Mr. Webb. . .this case landed in our laps first. Brain Hanson and Harmon Rabb went missing, we were called in to investigate. We have not closed those cases, so whatever information you have on them, you are obligated to tell us."

"On the contrary, Mr. Morrow," Jack spoke up, but was cut off by AJ once again. Mac silently cheered the Admiral for being so forthright.

"Now, wait, we're going to get nowhere if we keep this up," AJ stood up, and looked at everyone in the room. He slowly paced around the table as he talked, "Right now, everyone has jurisdiction here. Everyone knows something that could benefit the other. Fighting over who has control of what will not help us!"

"Agreed, Admiral," came the surprising response from Director Chase. Even Gibbs seemed stunned by her sudden compliance to be reasonable. Of course there was a catch, "If whatever information NCIS divulges is pertinent, then we will tell you what we know, agreed?"

"How about you tell us what you know anyway and we'll be even," Gibbs negotiated. Chase glanced at Jack, who's eyes softened showing his approval.

"Okay, Agent Gibbs."

Morrow glanced over at Kate, who took her turn to address the group. AJ returned to his seat to listen.

"Two days ago, Agent Chris Locke stumbled into our headquarters burned and bruised," Kate reported. "He had the same marks on his body that both Hanson and Daniels had. Locke proceeded to tell us about The Seven, that he identified Harm as the man who saved his life and that the person in charge of the terrorist group was a woman."

"The same woman who kidnapped Harm?" Mac asked, to which Kate replied yes.

Tony spoke up, "Both Colonel Mackenzie and Agent Locke described the woman as having a raspy, deep voice. However, we still don't know her name. No one could give us a better description."

"And anyone else who has seen her is dead," Gibbs remarked, looking directly at Jack. "Care to elaborate, Mr. Bristow?"

Jack accepted his turn to speak reluctantly and stood up, ready to address everyone. "Our operatives have identified the woman as Allison Krennick. You know who I'm referring to, don't you Admiral?"

"Unfortunately, I do," AJ said gravely. "She's used to work here about 10 years ago."

Mac remained silent, feeling incredibly stupid for not figuring it out before. It was hard to work here at JAG without the name Krennick coming up every once in a while. Especially if you were talking about Harm. To this day, Bud still teased Harm on the infatuation Krennick had with him. Even though she had never met Krennick personally, a part of her felt she should've known anyway.

Jack continued, "Our operatives have informed us that Harmon Rabb is alive and actively participating in terrorist activity. . .against his will. Instead of opting to be extracted, he's volunteered to remain a double agent. . ."

"He can do that?" Mac blurted out, hating herself for looking so worried. Why would he turn down a chance to come home?

"Yes, Colonel," Jack confirmed. "He can if he wants to. We didn't force him. In fact, he claimed he was staying to protect you."

Mac could feel her face flush slightly and she looked down at the table, trying to hide herself. Clay watched her reaction closely, trying to focus on the matter at hand, but still seeing that Sarah Mackenzie was slipping away from him. He was losing her and in the end, Harm would be waiting with open arms to catch her just like always. He was torn between helping her, helping Harm and keeping her all to himself. Jack spoke again, bringing him back to reality.

"Tonight, in Washington D.C., there will be a gala. According to our intel, Harm and his associate are ordered to murder a humanitarian named Leslie Dozier."

Mac and AJ exchanged glances, both asking the same question silently: Harm was ordered to kill someone?

"Well, what a coincidence," came the slow, collected speech of Sheffield. He adjusted his glasses and gestured towards AJ and Mac. "The Admiral, Colonel and myself are attending this gala tonight."

"Well, you can't go," Clay objected immediately, making eye contact specifically with Mac even though he was addressing the whole group. "It won't be safe."

"It's too late to change our minds, Mr. Webb," Sheffield corrected him and shrugged. "We can't cancel our reservations at this late stage. We are expected to attend and suddenly dropping out will look suspicious."

"We could go, boss," Tony chimed in, finally finding his voice in this entire matter. Gibbs stared at him, not following. Tony elaborated cooly, "As security detail, boss. We'll be responsible for the safety of the Admiral, Colonel and Secretary Sheffield. That way, Mr. Webb and his team will have one less thing to worry about. This way. . .we're not stepping on each others toes."

"Actually," Kate stared at Tony clearly proud of his suggestion. "That sounds like a good idea. . ."

Tony beamed a smile, proud he was able to contribute a sound solution to one of their problems. Gibbs couldn't find anything wrong with that. Going to this gala kept them in the loop. He looked around the conference room, "Any objections?"

"Not from me," Director Chase replied.

"I can arrange for your entrance," Sheffield confirmed, making a note of that in his day planner. "I'll make some calls and get you into the party."

For once, everyone in the room couldn't argue.

**April 20, 2004**

**Grand Ball Room**

**Washington D.C.**

Soft violins danced in the air, sending the patrons into a state of sweet bliss. A portrait of the honoree, Leslie Dozier, was set up at the entrance of the Grand Ball Room. He was in his late 40s, vibrant blond hair and a pleasant personality. His face was so charming and warm, it was no wonder he was able to convince millionaires to donate to the cause. The atmosphere was so inviting, Harm almost forgot why he was here. Too bad this man was really aiding the enemy.

Krennick seemed to wholeheartedly believe Palmer's recount of the events that took place at the airport. He added with complete glee, "Harm shot those bastards in cold blood!" Harm was quick to object he didn't want to kill them, but Krennick told him to save it. In this business, you have to kill to stay alive. You have to kill some people to protect the ones you love.

Harm studied his latest project, Mr. Dozier. He was chatting it up with some of the cute skirts willing to give him the time of day. It was a damn shame a man would use a charity ball to cover up his real operations. A known do-gooder with millions of dollars at his disposal, Dozier was siphoning money to other terrorists groups. Specifically a small faction in Luxembourg. They focused on two accounts both located at the same bank in France. One was in his name, the other was not. The latter collected about 10,000 dollars a month from Dozier's account. The faction in Luxembourg was relishing in the spoils.

Harm was leaning on the bar, nursing a tonic water. His hair was slicked back, his face clean shaven and he wore a black tux. Most of the men were in similar garments.

If they weren't wearing suits, they were military and were wearing full dress uniforms. Harm scanned the military personnel, longing to put on his dress whites. He missed his old life terribly and seeing a glimpse of what he used to do as an officer pained him.

Harm casually scanned the room, spotting his "team". First, Palmer was at one of the buffet tables, preparing a tray. Sydney, clad in a stunning deep maroon gown, was chatting it up with one of the locals. She appeared as if she belonged here and her ability to blend in amazed him. Next was Vaughn, who opted to be a waiter. He was serving up appetizers on delicate little plates to the other patrons. Harm was snapped out of his gazing when a voice interrupted him.

"Can I offer you another drink, sir?"

Harm looked at Palmer, who (as planned) was masquerading as a bartender. Playing his part like in a movie, Harm faked a smile and said, "No, I'm fine, thanks."

"Okay, have a good evening," Palmer said, finishing their little skit. He walked away, carrying a tray of the bubbly substance over to other patrons. According to the plan, that was the last time he would speak to Palmer. The next time they would see each other, Dozier would be dead. Harm could start to feel the butterflies in his stomach as he spotted his target once more.

Dozier was out there, chatting it up with a few officers and what appeared to be a gorgeous woman. A long, green gown hugged the curves of her body and he couldn't break his stare. He squinted his eyes for this woman looked oddly familiar but her back was to him. She was about her height. . .her build. . .even the hair. She always wore her short hair combed back at special occasions. It had that just out of the shower look that he had always loved. But no. . .it couldn't be her. Not here.

Then that woman he had been studying turned around. They made eye contact. His pupils enlarged in shock. Harm mouthed silently, "Mac. . ."

If Harm was caught talking to his old friends, it was over. His trust with Krennick would be destroyed and the repercussions would be unimaginable. These thoughts bounced around in his head, blaring like warning signals, but he couldn't break eye contact with her.

She couldn't break eye contact with him either.

To be continued. . .


	19. A Night To Remember

Disclaimer: not mine

Author's Notes: I had a long, exhausting reply to an anonymous review, but I got rid of it. I will say I try to follow canon as closely as possible (but am not shy to making a few deviations), so sorry if that disappoints anyone. Apologies for the delay, but I had computer troubles, losing most of this story and having my beta send the rest of it back to me. Much kudos to my beta! Lots of love!

Lastly, Ari's character history is only up to the episode "Reveille".

Previously: A joint meeting between all organizations is held to determine the fate of Jason Tiner and how to handle Harm's assassination mission to kill Leslie Dozier. In the end, everyone is allowed to attend the party, much to Harm's surprise...and Mac's.

**The Seven**

by e-dog

Chapter Nineteen

"A Night To Remember"

**April 20, 2004**

**Grand Ball Room**

**Washington D.C.**

Harm stared at Mac, still not trusting his own eyes. This had to be a hoax or something. Then he recognized the other officer standing near her. It was the Admiral! Okay, this was not a hoax. This entire situation was completely wrong! How could Krennick do this to him? Purposely set him up on a mission where she knew Mac and AJ would be? It suddenly dawned on him that if the plan didn't go smoothly, people he cared for could be in grave danger.

Mac returned the stunned gaze, her mouth dropping open slightly too. Then her eyes softened, almost like she understood why he was keeping his distance. Did she know something he didn't? He suddenly feared that she had roped herself into this mess of unpleasantness. God, why did she have to involve herself so deeply? He never intended for her to put her life on the line to find him! Then again, what did he expect? He left that cryptic message in that phone call they shared. He figured she would be smart enough to decipher it and he knew she would act on it. In some ways, he was happy she was searching for him...in other ways, he wished he could've left her out completely.

This was turning into the longest ten seconds of his life. He turned away, kicking himself for gazing too long. While it shocked him to see her once again, it alleviated him as well. Minus the bizarre circumstances, it was great to see her face once more. It gave him a sense of familiarity and comfort. He also felt that ache in his heart that had been ailing him for years now. That ache made him want to cast his eyes on her one more time.

He bravely checked over his shoulder to discover she had been distracted by Dozier once again. He was quite the talker and Mac couldn't seem to pull away from his amazing stories of good deeds and triumphs. Harm rose from his bar stool, started to walk away and disappeared into another part of the crowd. As much as he wanted to speak to her, he couldn't dream of trying to see her right now.

He spotted Palmer again, but he was concentrating on Dozier. Palmer's eyes radiated with immorality and a wickedness that would shake the toughest Navy SEAL to the core. Harm swallowed hard, then spotted another familiar person wearing security detail. It didn't take his memory long to pinpoint that face. Agent Tony Dinozzo. . .the NCIS agent working the Singer murder case. Not only was he dressed in security detail, but his outfit was accompanied with an ear piece and a firearm. That told him there were more agents around here somewhere. First Mac, then NCIS. Harm began to wonder just who else decided to show up to this shindig. . .

An urgent stare from Palmer told him it was time to move. Dozier was leaving the party as expected. Whenever he was set to give a speech, he left for about ten minutes to practice in a mirror. With the crowd distracted by the band and other diversions, this was the best window of opportunity.

Harm couldn't move. He was getting cold feet. Instead, he quickly made his way over to Palmer. His partner's eyes were growing increasingly angry, but he didn't move away until Harm reached him. Harm pretended to take that drink he refused before and whispered, "I can't do this."

"I knew this happen," Palmer shut his eyes completely disappointed. Under his breath he muttered, "She never listens to me."

"What does it matter _who_ kills him?" Harm hissed, trying to keep his voice low. "You do it."

"Look, you stay out here and look pretty. I'll go," Palmer ordered vehemently, clearly unhappy with this deviation. He watched Harm hurry away, taking refuge at the same bar he was sitting at earlier. Palmer grumbled to himself knowing Harm was too much of a goodie good to assassinate a famous humanitarian. He couldn't wait to finish this mission and get back to Chicago. He wanted to be the first one to tell Krennick that Harm was a failure. After several minutes had passed, he grabbed more wine glasses and proceeded to leave the party.

Vaughn was by the punch bowl, watching Palmer make his way through the crowd. He lowered his head so his mouth was near his shirt collar. On the inside of the collar was a bug, which he spoke into. "He's leaving the party now. Marshall just confirmed that the video feed in Dozier's office has been looped."

"Good." Her response came over his earpiece loud and clear. "Wish me luck." Sydney gave one last fleeting smile to the group she had been chatting with. Then just like Dozier and Palmer before her, she performed a disappearing act and left the party.

Harm remained at the bar, watching them leave with a wary eye.

-------------------------

Kate remained in position, her eyes watching both Mac and AJ closely. Tony was closer to a larger crowd near the orchestra. He was also wearing a highly bored look. She could only hope he would stay sharp and aware. Then his attention followed a long, red skirt crossing his path. Well, there was no question about him being awake now. Kate rolled her eyes as she said into her two-way, "Tony, focus."

"I am," he smirked, his eyes still admiring boundlessly the lengthy, red skirt. It was just the way that dress embraced those curves. . .

"I mean on the job, Tony," Kate clarified, breaking him from his fantasy. Once it seemed he was down off of cloud nine, she continued to observe the ballroom. Tony managed to come up with another cheeky remark, but she didn't hear it. _He_ was watching her.

There was no mistaking those eyes gazing at her from across the way. She had stared into those deep, brown pools enough times to remember them. The owner of those eyes gave her a heartfelt smile full of teeth. Then he nodded as if to excuse himself and he started to vanish into the crowd. Kate immediately began to follow, "Tony, we have a problem."

"Yes, we do. They're all out of mozzarella," Tony replied, inspecting the appetizer table.

"No, Tony. Ari is here! I'm going after him."

"Ari?" Tony repeated, then whirled around to scan the area. There was only one man by the name of Ari that he knew of. The terrorist spy who purposely stuffed himself into a body bag so he could gain access to the morgue at NCIS. As a parting gift, he shot Ducky's assistant in the shoulder then proceeded to stuff Ducky and Kate into the body freezers. He also orchestrated an attack on the President, kidnapping Kate in the process. He wanted her knowledge from her time in the Secret Service. His goal was to use her to pinpoint which helicopter The President would be traveling in.

In the end, Ari turned to out to be nothing but a Mossad agent infiltrating and working with the Hamas. His ultimate goal was trying to gain access to Al-Qaida. Go figure. Despite learning what his true motives were, Gibbs was insistent that the team never trust Ari. Everyone seemed to understand this except Kate.

Tony began to protest, "No, Kate. We don't even know why Ari is here. . .you'll need back-up!"

"Tony, watch the Colonel and the Admiral," Kate ordered. "I'm going radio silent. . ."

"Who died and made you Gibbs?" he asked angrily, but she never heard it. She had terminated her communication device.

He knew it. He knew Kate had a "thing" for Ari. It was really hard to define Kate's fascination with the man. Was it affection? Was it that innate curiosity that all profilers have? Tony wasn't sure what her motivations were, but he knew that her obsession with Ari would screw up lots of stuff!

So what if the man was really an inside guy, spying on terrorists for the United States government. He was still dangerous and his presence here at this particular gala was unnerving and unexpected. He called again, his efforts fruitless. "Kate? Kate, c'mon. This is stupid!"

He spun around, but had lost sight of her. What was worse, he still hadn't spotted Ari either. "Damn it."

"Tony!" His voice was just loud enough to be heard over the music. Tony cringed and turned around. Gibbs and McGee had been monitoring the surrounding hallways. They were only going to be gone for a few moments, but that was just long enough for Kate to slip away. Gibbs approached the younger agent, invading his personal space. He first cast his eyes on the crowd before glaring at Tony,"Please tell me I didn't hear what I thought I heard."

Tony glanced at the earpiece in Gibbs's ear. He had forgotten all conversations could be heard by everyone else. With a look of pure fear, Tony replied, "I'm sad to say you did, boss."

"Find her," Gibbs ordered, then waved that command off. Instead, he pointed at himself and stated, "I'll find Ari. You stay here with McGee."

"I thought you were looking for Kate," Tony said feebly, watching his boss walk away.

"Keep an eye on our guests, Tony," Gibbs replied sternly, ending the discussion.

-------------------------

Both Mac and AJ thought that man would never shut-up. It was all fine and dandy what contributions Leslie Dozier had made to the environment, but he had the tendency to keep talking and talking and talking. . .

Mac made her way through the crowds knowing what she was doing was wrong, but she couldn't help it. Seeing Harm was no mistake. He was not a hallucination. An inner voice kept begging her to find him and she was doing just that. Seeking. Hoping.

Both Jack Bristow and Clayton Webb made it clear to her to avoid making contact with Harm at all costs. If she even looked at him the wrong way, his cover would be blown. She paused, smiling sweetly at the random passerby, trying to remain inexplicit and steady. Than she stood in place, pained by the fact that she had to stop searching for him. She couldn't risk both their lives simply because she wanted to give him a huge bear hug. There was so much more she wanted to say to him. It would be foolish to try, given the circumstances.

She sighed inwardly, closing her eyes to collect herself. When she opened them again, she received the surprise of her life. A bartender was leaving the party, but that wasn't the unusual part. Her heart beat faster as she recognized who the man was! It was Clark Palmer! Her eyes darted around, searching for Kate or Tony, but they weren't in their designated spots. Where the hell did they go?

"Colonel," AJ approached her, startling her. He gently placed a hand on her arm to steady her and asked, "You okay?"

"Sorry, sir, I'm fine," she lied, then caught her last glimpse of Palmer exiting down an adjacent corridor. She returned her attention to AJ and asked, "Did you have to suffer through another story with Dozier, sir?"

"Thankfully, no," AJ laughed. "He had to go to his office to pick up his speech. Then he'll have the opportunity to bore everyone else to sleep!"

"I'll say," Mac smiled back, but the wheels in her brain were turning. Clay never told them who Harm's associate was. Now she was beginning to think it was Palmer and that assumption was beginning to scare her. She and AJ began to casually walk, nodding hellos to diplomats they didn't recognize. The more time she spent out here, the more she wanted to follow Palmer. She cleared her throat and said discreetly, "I think I saw Harm, sir."

"Yeah?" AJ responded blandly. He was trying to remain impartial, but she could see his heart leap in relief. They continued to walk as he reminded her, "Clay specifically told us to behave, Mac."

"I know," Mac sighed heavily, looking around anxiously. "I just. . .Knowing that Harm has been ordered to. . .kill Dozier. It doesn't sit right with me."

"I don't like it either, but Clay said they have everything under control."

"That's what scares me, sir," Mac said gravely. She wanted to tell him she saw Palmer as well, but that didn't seem wise. What she wanted more was to leave this party. She was sick of waiting. She wanted to see what was happening for herself. So, she gave AJ one last grin and asked, "Would you excuse me, sir?"

"Of course, Colonel, but remember to stay in view of the agents," he prompted her, his voice almost signaling that his request was an order.

"I know, sir," she nodded, then hurried off through the crowd. She checked a few times over her shoulder, but found AJ was now distracted by SecNav Sheffield. This was her chance to make a break for it. She made her way to the corridor in which she saw Palmer disappear, then slipped away from the party herself. Once she was far enough away, she reached under her long gown and revealed a small firearm. Gibbs had demanded she have a little fire power on her side, just in case things went south.

She had a feeling that things were about to go south. . .

To be continued. . .


	20. Mordgeld

Disclaimer: not mine

Previously: Harm feigns cold feet and sends Palmer to kill Dozier instead. Meanwhile, Kate spies Ari Haswari and follows him as he leaves the party. Lastly, Mac has also noticed the presence of Clark Palmer and feels compelled to follow. . .taking a gun with her just in case.

**The Seven**

by e-dog

**Chapter Twenty**

"Mordgeld"

**April 20, 2004**

**East Corridor**

**Washington D.C.**

Kate had no idea what inspired her to take this action. Maybe it was because Ari had entered her life twice and she had been unable to detain him. She wouldn't go as far as Gibbs, who literally shot Ari in the shoulder out of pure frustration. There was something else she needed. Closure, perhaps? It seemed like such an odd thing to want from a man who endangered her life more than once. Maybe she wanted an explanation. Why did he always stare at her with such inquisitive eyes? Back in the ballroom, when his eyes met hers, she felt they were the only two people in the room for just a split second. How was he able to create such confusion within her?

She definitely knew she wasn't attracted to him. This wasn't a mutual feeling of admiration or love. It was one of curiosity and intrigue. Her expertise allowed her to figure out people. While she thought she knew Ari before, it was clear she still knew nothing about him at all. When all was said and done, however, Gibbs was most likely going to kill her for going it alone.

Kate was slowly creeping her way down the dimly lit hallway, her feet padding along softly on the plush carpeting. This place was extravagant, to say the least. Even so, with the lights turned down low, the gargoyle statues were starting to look extremely menacing. She gripped her firearm tightly, her senses heightened from the excitement coursing through her veins. Just the sight of Ari was making her edgy. She could only hope she could keep it together if she actually ran into him. . .

"Caitlin," she heard him say her name from behind. He was practically on top of her, his voice speaking softly in her ear, "What a pleasant surprise."

"Ari," she said quietly, then swallowed hard. "Are you armed?"

"Not at all, but I see that you are," he chuckled lightly, then she felt his arm brush hers as his hand rested on her gun. "You won't be needing that."

Kate elbowed him, then turned around aiming her gun at him, "Don't even try it."

"I wouldn't dream of it, Caitlin," Ari smiled emphatically, slowly recovering from the blow to his stomach. He then rubbed his shoulder gingerly, before continuing, "I have a feeling Gibbs will have a word with me if I ever tried anything."

Kate frowned at his comment about Gibbs, knowing exactly what he was referring to. She maintained her ground and demanded, "What are you doing here?"

"I'm on official business," he explained, finally standing upright, but still wincing. He laughed, with a twinkle in his eyes, "You really slugged me! I didn't know you had it in you!"

"Ari, tell me why you're here," she said, trying to remain calm, but he was dancing around the answer. His eyes continued to radiate something good, rather than evil. As she had told Gibbs before, Ari's eyes were kind. It was hard to believe he could be even remotely related to anything involving terrorists.

"I'm sorry, Caitlin. The reasons for my being here are classified," Ari apologized, offering a hand. "Please, we should go back out to the party. People will start to worry."

Kate stared at him baffled, having a hard time reading him. Before she could dwell on it anymore, she felt a presence behind her. She turned around only to be met with another person's fist.

Ari watched her fall from the impact, his shoulders slumping some in disappointment. Kate really was a smart, beautiful woman. Unfortunately, she was too eager. She needed to learn to have more patience. Ari finally looked up and shook his head, "I had everything under control, Mr. Palmer."

"I wasn't expecting NCIS or you, Ari," Palmer said through clenched teeth. "Why the hell are you here?"

"Simple, Mr. Palmer," Ari grinned widely. "I'm here on behalf of our boss."

"I don't need back-up," Palmer insisted, pushing past his unwanted guest. "It's Harm who may need it."

"Are you confident he can do this?" Ari asked, stopping Palmer in his tracks. He waited for Palmer to return his attention to him before revealing a silenced pistol tucked into his pants. "If he can't, then I'll have to clean up his mess."

Palmer frowned, not ready to tell Ari that Harm had already chickened out. Instead, he pointed toward Kate, "Just take care of your girlfriend."

"As you wish, Mr. Palmer," Ari nodded, then glanced down at Kate. There was nothing here to tie her up with, but he did spy a janitor's closet down the hall. He would stash her in there for now. He effortlessly scooped up the unconscious NCIS agent and proceeded to carry her away.

Slowly, Mac poked her head around the corner, not believing what she just saw or heard. A nervous chill ran down her spine as she wondered about Harm's assignment. Where this Ari came from, she didn't know either, but it was obvious he was working with Palmer. It was even more obvious that Kate knew Ari by the way she spoke to him. You didn't have to be profiler to notice Kate's extremely gentle tone of voice toward the suspected criminal. Mac remained where she was until she could follow Ari at a safe distance. She would wait to take action, unless he threatened Kate's life.

After trailing him for a few minutes, she discovered he was merely placing Kate in a closet and out of sight. He was careful to sit her comfortably before shutting the door. He straightened his tie, then walked away.

-------------------------

**West Corridor**

**Leslie Dozier's Office**

Leslie Dozier rummaged through the files on his desk, muttering to himself, "C'mon, I know you're here somewhere. . ."

He frowned, not sure where he had placed his speech. Well, no worries. He would just have to print off another copy from his computer. He took a seat, his hands flying across the keyboard as he searched for and located the appropriate file. He froze when he began to smell the sweet fragrance of a woman's perfume. He felt the sharp points of freshly manicured fingernails press up against his neck, as she squeezed lightly. He swallowed hard and asked quietly, "Allison? Is that you?"

He turned to face his attacker, but her hand clamped over his mouth and ordered him to stay quiet.

-------------------------

Palmer slowly pushed the door open, holding his tray of wine. He spied Dozier sitting in his office chair facing him. He smiled and announced his presence,"Mr. Dozier, I have some wine for you. Compliments of the Secretary of the Navy."

Dozier didn't even look up from his desk as he scribbled notes in the margins of his paper. "Is that so? How nice of him. Red or white?"

"Red," Palmer replied wickedly, staring at the liquid instead of the target. "It's a deep red. The color of blood. Have you ever heard of the word 'mordgeld', Mr Dozier?"

"Can't say that I have," Dozier replied, his voice shaky now. He finally glanced up from his desk and removed his glasses. He squinted in confusion, "Do I know you?"

Palmer grinned at the sound of fear resonating from Dozier. He started making his way over to his victim. His free hand revealed a knife from a sheath hidden under his jacket. Dozier stood up, holding up his hands in defense.

Palmer dropped the tray, red wine splashing everywhere. Both hands were free now as he swiftly trapped Dozier in a corner. He was breathing deeply in anticipation of the kill. He finished his little speech, "It means, 'blood money' in German. Let's just say, you can't buy your way out of this using anything green."

"Sie sind Herr Palmer?"

Palmer glanced over his shoulder at the unexpected voice. For a millisecond, his eyes rested on a mysterious woman aiming a gun at him. In the next millisecond, she fired. The little dart hit its mark, piercing his neck and administering the drug. Palmer grabbed the punctured, sore area on his cervix and tried to pull it out. It was too late because he could already feel the world slipping away. He slowly fell to the floor, grinding his teeth and glaring viciously at the woman who shot him. Finally, his eyes closed and he hit the floor with a thud.

Dozier was leaning against the wall, watching the woman who called herself Sydney Bristow kneel down and check on Palmer. She then looked up at him and briefly congratulated, "You did very well, Mr. Dozier. Now we should get you to safety."

"He was trying to kill me?" Dozier asked in disbelief.

Sydney was trying to lift Palmer's body, then gave an insistent stare to the man she just saved. "We have to move, Mr. Dozier. It's not safe here."

"We have to take him with us?" Dozier questioned, but he could see the young woman was in no mood to go into explanations. He rushed over and grabbed Palmer's arms. She was going to head for the office door, but Dozier wouldn't follow. Instead he told her, "I have a secret doorway that leads out back. It'll be better than carrying him through the ballroom."

"Let's go," she ordered. She and Dozier carried Palmer through the secret panel and disappeared. Slowly, the main office door opened and Ari poked his head in. He raised an eyebrow in curiosity, watching the secret panel in the back wall shut. He checked the ammo in his firearm and made it ready to fire. There was another exit he could take and if he double timed it, he could cut them off before they sped away.

-------------------------

**Grand Ball Room**

Harm frantically darted his eyes from one side of the ballroom to the other. One of the NCIS agents he had identified was gone. Mac was gone. Dozier was still in his office and Palmer still had not returned. Something was wrong. He took a seat at the bar again and casually smoothed his hair. He spoke into his watch (which contained a small communicator) and said, "Something's wrong. I've lost sight of the Colonel, Dozier, and the NCIS team."

Vaughn replied, his voice buzzing over the earpiece, "Dixon noticed Colonel Mackenzie leaving the party and heading down the west corridor. Agent Gibbs and Todd also left in that direction."

"Dozier's office is that way," Harm remembered.

"And so is the bathroom," Vaughn chuckled slightly. "Don't worry. She could back any minute. Just stick to the plan."

Harm focused on the west corridor now. There was no doubt about what he had to do next. He had to go after Mac. He had to make sure Mac would be okay and there was no way he was leaving her safety in the hands of NCIS. They were the same idiots who charged him with murder.

Vaughn watched Harm get up from the bar and walk towards the west corridor. His face remained composed, but his voice showed his urgency, "Harm, where are you going?"

"To back up Palmer," Harm lied.

"That wasn't part of the plan," Vaughn warned him, but he could see nothing was going to stop him.

Harm was walking too fast to be caught and Sydney had severed all radio contact, so he couldn't warn her either. This was not good.

Not good at all.

To be continued. . .


	21. Leak Part 1

Disclaimer: not mine

Previously: Harm's trainer Gareth warns Harm to "stay away from his girl." (Chapter 10)

Kate finds and talks with Ari, trying to figure out his reasons for being at the gala. Unfortunately, Palmer also finds them and he incapacitates her. Later, Palmer realizes too late that he's been set up and is captured by Sydney. Ari witnesses Palmer's capture.

**The Seven**

by e-dog

**Chapter Twenty One**

"Leak"

Part One

**April 20, 2004**

**West Corridor**

**Washington D.C.**

Both Krennick and Ari were certain Palmer would screw this up. He was annoyingly predictable. There was still something perplexing about the situation though. Harm should have been the one wielding the knife meant for Dozier, not Palmer. Something went awry and now it was time for Ari to do his job. To clean up Harm and Palmer's mess.

"Ari!" Gibbs yelled, aiming his firearm at him. Ari stopped long enough to look over his shoulder and spy his nemesis. Behind him were Kate and surprisingly, the alluring Colonel Mackenzie. Well, that was another thing that didn't go to plan. He had specifically called Jason Tiner ordering that he eliminate Mackenzie once and for all. It was clear that she was still alive. It was hard to find good help these days.

Kate was leaning heavily on the Colonel, obviously just waking up from the blow to her head. Unfortunately, Gibbs was close enough to fire a decent shot and Ari had no means of escape.

Then his prayers were answered. Krennick had anticipated this would happen in some way, shape or form. Harmon Rabb always had to play hero. He always had to come rescue his friends. Ari spotted Harm, who had been approaching them but slowed when he saw what was really going on. Ari called him out and ordered, "Harm! Harm, shoot them! Shoot them now!"

Harm just stared wide eyed at the mysterious stranger yelling at him. Another quick turn of his head and he could see Gibbs, Kate and Mac giving him confused/surprised stares. In the time Gibbs took to glance at Harm, Ari fired a warning shot over their heads.

Everyone ducked down to the ground instantly, unaware of who the shot was intended for. In the background, the shot echoed and varied screams and shouts of surprise could be heard from the ballroom. Ari was trying to start a panic!

"Gibbs!" Kate managed to shout, watching Ari making his escape. Ignoring the throbbing in her head, she rose from the ground and began to race down the hall after the fleeing criminal.

"I see him!" Gibbs replied, following Kate's lead and running after her.

Mac remained behind, just gaping at Harm. They both rose from the floor with difficulty. He was standing there in an anxious pose, his hands hovering above his waist and his nervous eyes locking with hers. She could see his mind working. He was wondering what to do, where to go, what to say.

"Harm?" she called softly, coaxing him to walk forward. It had been several weeks since that incident in Harm's apartment. Hearing the gun shot, racing up the stairs to reach him, then finally seeing the pool of blood under his leg. It was nice to see him, completely healed and seemingly healthy. She had been longing to speak to him. Longing to hold him. Now he was here and it was just the two of them. Surely it would be okay to embrace him now, right?

"We have Palmer," Vaughn reported in Harm's ear piece. "Mission over. We'll pick you up out front!"

Harm could hear Vaughn's order but couldn't move. He just continued to stare at Mac and began to remember everything he missed. He missed his apartment and his old job. He missed working along side his best friend and not-so-secret love. He missed Sturgis and Bud. Jenn and AJ. He shook his head, knowing that this was only the first battle of many more to come. His lips quivered trying to utter that he was sorry, but he couldn't speak. Instead, he finally knocked some sense into himself, turned and ran away from her.

He was now a double agent tasked to help take down The Seven. He committed to it and he would stand by his word. He was doing this to protect Mac. Running to her and giving himself hope would cause him to regret it later. All good things come to those who wait. . . he just hoped he wouldn't have to wait too much longer.

"Harm!" Mac called, finally finding her voice. She watched his retreating form and called desperately again, "No! Harm! Wait!"

His feet pounded on the floor as he raced through the ballroom. He brushed past the patrons, scaring them and causing some of the women to scream. They had already heard the gunshot for sure and seeing a frantic man racing through the ballroom was probably putting them even more on edge. No matter how far he ran, he could still hear Mac shouting for him. Begging him to stop.

As if his luck couldn't get any worse, he practically slammed into AJ. For a brief moment, the two men were tangled up, trying to regain their footing, staring at each other in disbelief. Before AJ could utter a syllable, Harm yanked himself away and out the front entrance.

The moment Harm stepped foot outside, Vaughn roared up to the curb in the van. The side door slid open and Harm jumped in to join Sydney, Leslie Dozier and the unconscious Clark Palmer. The door slammed shut with a deafening sound. He collapsed to the floor of the van, tore off his tie, then stared helplessly at Sydney.

"I just. . .ran away. I saw them both. . .and just ran away," Harm managed to choke, his body starting to tremble in anticipation of the tears. How could he do that? How could he just run away from her without saying anything? What kind of person had he become? Cold and ruthless? Pitiful and lonely? She had called his name. He hesitated, wanting to speak to her. Then before he realized it, he was following Vaughn's orders as if on automatic pilot. He was a robot with no feelings. He had finally become what Mark Daniels and Clayton Webb were known for.

He was a spook. He was the job. He was following orders. People lived and people died. You couldn't deal with silly things like love, loss, remorse and regret. His lips quivered again as he finally realized that he was the job and nothing more. His friends, his old life. . .all a formality. When did that happen? How did that happen?

Sydney's face immediately expressed her sympathy and empathy as she knelt down next to him, offering to hold him. She said softly, "Harm? You gonna be okay?"

In most cases, Harm would've clammed up and hid in a corner somewhere. However, this wasn't an issue of pride. He needed human contact. It was hard to admit, but at this very moment, Sydney and Vaughn were the only family he had. He gratefully leaned into Sydney, but held in any sign of emotion.

The van rumbled along the road, taking them to a train station. Soon, he would be back in Chicago facing Krennick. He would have to lie about what happened to Palmer and Dozier tonight. He would have to keep this double agent operation running if he ever wanted a normal life again.

He pulled out of Sydney's embrace and mumbled he was fine.

He had to be fine. He was the job.

**April 21, 2004**

**The Seven Headquarters**

**Somewhere in Chicago**

The second Harm opened his apartment door there was a blinding blow to his temple. Unfortunately, it didn't knock him out so as he was dragged down the corridor, he could feel every painstaking pulse reverberate in his pounding skull. He suddenly wished for Vaughn or Sydney to show up and save him, but protocol wouldn't allow them to return to Chicago with him.

They did have a plan. After the party, he rode in the van seated next to an unconscious Palmer and a scared-as-shit Dozier. They didn't stop until they reached a train station. Vaughn purposely kicked him around so he could sell his cover story. With minor yet noticeable bruises on his ribs and face, Harm stumbled onto the train (the ticket purchased by Sydney) and he rode that as far as he could. Then he contacted Reznik, explained he had been attacked by Palmer's abductors and needed transport.

Everything about his cover story had been going fine, until he arrived home. His already "Vaughn-inflicted", bruised and battered body was taking a lot more punishment now, rolling around in the back of another truck. They had restrained his hands and feet, so every time the truck made a sharp turn, he couldn't stop himself from slamming into the sides. It seemed like hours, but they finally arrived and roughly pulled him out of the vehicle. His feet dredged the dirt and concrete as they made their way to the entrance of The Seven Headquarters. It was early in the morning, the sun not even up yet and the dark morning sky spelled trouble was just up ahead.

Krennick watched closely through the two-way mirror as they tossed her beloved secret agent into the cell. Harmon Rabb, Jr. Always so righteous and so perfect. Someone who was about to punished for not doing his job as an international terrorist spy. The irony of it all would never cease to amuse her, but for right now, she couldn't laugh or chuckle. She looked over her shoulder spying Ari resting leisurely on a metal chair. His enigmatic eyes grinned at her as he nodded his head to affirm, "He's the one, Allison."

Krennick frowned, opened a door adjacent to her and stepped inside the cell. Harm looked up at her, his face etched with fear and confusion. He gasped, "What the hell is going on?"

"The mission. You came back, Dozier is still alive and Palmer is missing," Krennick listed, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. "You obviously talked to the wrong people. . ."

"No, no...I went after the people who took Palmer!" Harm lied smoothly, forcing himself to sound desperate and truthful. "They. . .there were too many of them. . ."

Krennick slowly put a hand up to silence him and stalked over to his tired form splayed across the floor. She knelt down, playfully fingered a button on his dress shirt before ripping the fabric open. She could feel him tense under her touch as she gently brushed her hand over the bruises on his chest. She stood up again and asked, "You fought them?"

'I did, please believe me," Harm replied wearily, his eyes pleading for some leeway. "I was just trying to get Palmer back. . .I felt something was wrong and I went to help. I have no reason to betray you. . ."

"Betray me?" Krennick paused, turning so that her back was to him. He watched her tap her cheek in thought as she reminded him, "You told me that you were loyal to The Seven. . .not to me. How do I know you wouldn't betray me?

She casually glanced over her shoulder to gaze at him; drinking in his words and actions. His body language, his bruises from the fight, his tone of voice all sounded plausible, but something was still off and she couldn't quite place a finger on it. She needed to be convinced of his story through other methods. She turned to Reznik who was smiling mischievously, anxious to hear her next order. She dictated softly, "Rough him up."

"My pleasure," he growled in a low gargle.

Harm's eyes widened in shock and he scrambled on the floor, trying to get up. "Allison! I didn't do anything wrong!"

She had to admit, hearing Harm call her name desperately like that took her to a happy place. Unfortunately, she couldn't act on those feelings. . .at least not in this room with others watching.

Harm watched her leave the room and his vision was replaced with the stocky Russian who wanted nothing more than to beat the crap out of him. Harm shuffled away as best he could, but there was no escape. He could see how anxious Reznik was to complete this task and before he could attempt to defend himself, it was over. Reznik landed hit after hit, punishing his body.

Ari stood next to his partner in crime, watching the pummeling of the former Navy Commander. Krennick paced the tile floor, wrinkling her nose and folding her arms across her chest in a defensive manner. He could tell she didn't want to hurt Harm, but if she didn't, it would go against all the principles she had made standard here.

Ari smiled, his eyes carefully taking note of his old "friend". It had been several years since they had last spoken to each other, considering the gang had to split up and went into hiding for a while. Back when their organization was young and inexperienced, The CIA had been getting close to identifying all seven of them. Krennick had been the strongest of all of them, so she took charge and practically ordered everyone to lay low.

In the short period of time they had been apart, Palmer lost his head while working as a DSD agent. He was arrested for impersonating Harm. What Palmer was trying to accomplish with that stunt still eluded Ari. As for himself, Ari was involved in elaborate schemes to infiltrate terrorists groups in Afghanistan, resulting in an unwanted injury to his shoulder. A slug administered by one Agent Jethro Gibbs. As for the other four members of The Seven, he hadn't a clue of their whereabouts but he was sure one person knew where they were and she was standing in the room next to him.

Krennick had plans. She had aspirations to become the most feared vigilante in the world. Using "just and honorable causes" to further herself in the terrorist hierarchy. She had proved to be ruthless, bold and intelligent. While the other six had been getting into trouble, she had been restructuring The Seven. Gathering more people, more weapons, more contacts and connections. Before anyone had realized it, she had become The One and they had become The Other Six. She was living large and in charge and her power was unsurmountable.

Even her jerk of a boyfriend Gareth couldn't stand up to her, despite how insanely jealous he could be of any man who dared to mention her name.

Listening to the cries of Harm's anguish and pain, she paced the floor. Ari couldn't help but grin, still amazed at all she had accomplished. Her most amazing feat: kidnapping the infamous Harmon Rabb, Jr. and turning him into a terrorist spy. It was rather dangerous, yet genius in a very convoluted way. Here was a man who could easily adapt to sudden changes in his life. He was the perfect subject; a lab rat racing through a labyrinth where all the traps, twists and turns were controlled by her.

"What are you thinking about, Ari?" Krennick asked, breaking him from his thoughts.

Ari recovered quicky and swimmingly answered, "About that dinner we shared a few months ago."

Krennick merely chortled, then turned away from him. It was a surprise when she contacted him. She claimed she invited him to dinner to celebrate his successful mission breaking into the NCIS morgue. She was proud of his work and wanted him back in the organization. Ari had found her sudden interest in him intriguing and strange, so naturally, his curiosity dragged him to dinner.

It was only dinner, but one man would've moved mountains to make sure he killed the person who ever looked at his girl sideways. That man was Gareth. Ari took pride in managing to stay alive and he didn't want that minor incident to ruin that. He sighed and asked nonchalantly, "How is Gareth?"

"Clueless and jealous, as usual," Krennick chuckled, a genuine amused expression crossing her face. "He hates it that he's stuck within the walls of The Seven. He wants to watch things constantly. . ."

"You mean, he wants to keep tabs on you and Harm?" Ari redressed, cocking an eyebrow.

"He misses being in the field," Krennick grinned devilishly, elaborating on her previous explanation and blatantly ignoring the remark about Harm. "He lost his edge and he had to be brought in. Not to mention the fact I was the one who benched him. I think he's overly aggressive to spite me."

"He was always persistent. A good quality to have in a field agent," Ari joked, absentmindedly admiring the plain walls of the cell. Reznik was taking a break, mostly because he was tired. Harm was lucky to have a interruption in the beating as he lay there, blood dripping from his nose and cheeks. He continued to mutter that he did nothing wrong. As if watching this kind of behavior was normal, Ari then added cooly, "I'm glad you asked me back, Allison."

"I anticipated Palmer screwing up. I was planning ahead," Krennick answered him, her smile gone and a rigidness taking over her tone. Ari became quiet recognizing her change in mood. She added even more darkly, "I'm weeding out the weak. I'm keeping the strong."

Ari stiffened, a question popping up in his mind. He found the courage and asked her, "Am I one of the strong?"

"That depends," she answered him with a quirky smile.

"On what?" he asked.

"On how well you can please me," she nearly grinned, but her eyes remained focused on Harm. She could hear Ari chuckle, but he wisely kept any other comments to himself. She hit the buzzer on the wall, telling Reznik that was enough. With a disappointed expression, he walked out leaving Harm to wallow on the hard concrete floor.

She rubbed her temples, feeling a headache coming, possibly a migraine. This was turning into quite the acid trip; a trip which she initiated in the first place. She should've known better, but her overzealousness had gotten the best of her. She saw so much potential, but Harm had been a do-gooder all his life. Maybe with a little more conditioning, she could change the man that was Harmon Rabb and turn him into the man she wished him to be. Now she was beginning to realize how much more effort and time that was going to take.

"Please, Allison, relax," Ari's smooth voice said sweetly. She sneered, still amazed with her partner's demeanor. Ari had this way of making everything seem just fine even if everything was going horribly wrong.

"I wish I had your patience," she nearly spat at him, groaning in disgust. "You forget that Palmer is in CIA custody and who knows what that idiot will say."

"And Colonel Mackenzie is still alive."

"Don't remind me." Krennick waited for a few more minutes, before throwing the door open and entering Harm's cell space one more time. She looked down at him as he weakly looked up. His eyes were beginning to swell and his lips were puffy.

" Wh- - Why?" Harm managed to ask, then spotted the mystery man from D.C. entering the cell. Harm spat out angrily, "Who are you?"

"His name is none of your concern at the moment," Krennick spoke up in an austere tone. Her eyes were narrow and her gaze razor sharp. "We need to talk."

"About?"

"Don't play dumb with me, Harm, or I'll call Reznik back in," came her reply. Harm tried to remain stoic and unassuming, but even her words were slicing through his weak attempts at innocence. She knew. Somehow she knew he was a double agent and he was getting the crap kicked out of him because she knew. Krennick knelt down next to him again, invading his personal space. She was in no mood for games and this became all too clear when she whispered in his ear, "What happened?"

"I was sitting at the bar," Harm went into his story, dropping the attitude. "I noticed that Palmer had been gone for a long time, so I followed. . ."

"No, you noticed that _Colonel Mackenzie_ had disappeared for a long time," Krennick corrected him. She watched him cough up blood involuntarily, then she nodded her head in the direction of the mystery man, "This is Ari. He works for me and I sent him to keep tabs on both you and Palmer. He told me some interesting things, Harmon."

"Is that so?" Harm asked meekly, his fear taking over his body and mind. This was the end, he could sense it. Ari was sent to spy on him at the gala. He made the one mistake that he couldn't afford to make and that was attaining contact with Mac. He never actually exchanged words with her, but there was that boneheaded moment he decided to find her. Ari had witnessed the whole thing. Harm could only think of one way to get out of this and that was to pray.

"Yes, I'm afraid he saw you breaking the rules," Krennick declared, her ominous voice sending chills down his spine. "This is why I had to make a house call and see you personally."

Before Harm could attempt to explain himself, Ari smiled brightly at him. He pulled out a chair from the other room and strongly suggested, "Please sit, Mr. Rabb."

They watched as he clumsily stood to his feet. His hands still bound, it took him several tries to get into the chair. He received no help from his captors. Finally, he climbed up and graciously accepted the comfort of the solid, metal seat. He took time out to study both Krennick and Ari, trying to figure out what else was going to happen to him. His muscles became tense and his jaw clenched in apprehension.

Ari took a seat across from him, then explained, "I saw Palmer in Dozier's office, not you. I'm confused."

"I told Palmer I couldn't do it," Harm mumbled through bruised lips, slowly building his confidence back up. He couldn't automatically assume that Krennick knew about his double agency. He had to pretend as if everything was okay, despite how much his body ached in pain. "He said he would do it."

Ari folded his hands, while Krennick continued to give him the death stare. After a few long seconds, Ari spoke up again, "Okay. I also gave you an order to shoot Agent Gibbs, but in all fairness, you were not aware I was also your superior. For that, I pardon your insubordination."

"I appreciate that," Harm replied with difficulty, nervously glancing up at Krennick again.

"However, the Colonel and Agent Gibbs did recognize you," Ari continued. His smile faded, "These two people were in your previous life."

"I know," Harm mumbled, finding it hard to give strong, coherent responses. Krennick was under the impression he broke the rules, but she was wrong. At least, he had to prove to her that she was wrong. He took a deep breath and finally showed some ferocity by saying, "But I never spoke to any of them. In fact, I did everything I could to avoid them, but it was difficult."

"Difficult?" Krennick repeated, sounding skeptical.

Harm forced himself to stand up, now trying to intimidate her. His eyes inflamed in frustration as he spoke the truth to her face, "You set me up and you know it, Allison. Palmer could've done that job alone, but with my former colleagues on the guest list, you couldn't resist. You wanted me to screw up. . .you wanted a reason to punish me!"

Harm watched Krennick grin banefully and he knew he had won this part of the argument.

Ari approached Harm from behind and grabbed his arms tightly. Harm resisted, but Krennick placed a gentle, yet firm hand on his shoulder, "Those people you fought. . .they took Palmer and Dozier. The only way they could've known is if someone told them."

"You think I did?" Harm asked in an incredulous tone.

"I don't know what to think," Krennick replied truthfully. "I do know that I should've given you more time. You'll be going back to your cell, not your office. You need time to think about what happened yesterday."

"Wait, why. . why are you doing this?" Harm asked exhausted. His question echoed of another time. Krennick did not want to dwell on these questions again, but he pressed on, "What did I do to you? Why did you pick me?"

Krennick stood there, now looking at the floor. She could hear Ari call her name, wanting her to snap out of it and give him an order. She swallowed hard before answering, "You have so much more potential. The CIA was too blind to see that."

"I don't understand what that means!" Harm replied angrily, nearly ripping away from Ari in his attempt to tackle her.

"Take him away," she finally commanded. Reznik came in to help Ari while Harm began to thrash his legs and arms in a blind fury. She listened to him scream his pleas for an explanation. She remained silent.

**April 21, 2004**

**APO Headquarters**

**Somewhere in Los Angeles**

It was dark and the air was limited.

He blinked, wondering if the darkness would ever go away. He was still woozy, lightheaded and groggy. He could quite possibly be hallucinating, so he tried his other senses. He breathed in and felt fibers enter his nose, tickling the insides and almost causing him to sneeze. After letting his foggy mind clear up a tiny bit, he realized there was a hood on his head blocking his vision and air passages.

Then he sensed pain. Real pain. He could feel strong hands on his arms, squeezing them securely so that he couldn't move. His feet shuffled because they were chained closely together; the manacles chafing his ankles. His hands were also cuffed and then linked to the belt on his jumpsuit. He was only mobile enough to shamble his walk and keep up the pace of the men leading the way.

He heard doors swing open and close with a forbidding creak. His heart pounded, not in fear but in anticipation as he remembered how he arrived at this point.

Dozier's office. The woman with the German accent and gun. The dart that dispersed the drug throughout his system, then knocked him out cold.

He had been captured by the enemy. Again.

What? He had only escaped from Leavonworth about three days ago?

Suddenly, he was stopped in his tracks. They ripped the dark hood off his face and brilliant light flooded his sight. Afer blinking a few times, Clark Palmer laid his eyes on the people who had compromised his mission. His eyes scanned the area. It was bright white everywhere; glass giving you clear views to the many different interlinking offices. Dark suits and skirts walked by with an air of importance and pride for their jobs. His face fell as he mumbled in disgust, "CIA."

"Close, but no cigar," Jack said, his eyes locking with the Palmer. "But your fate is lying in the hands of the United States government."

Palmer sneered at the agent addressing him, then he spied Sydney. His eyes lit up and he mocked in a terrible German accent, "Are you the woman from the party?"

"Yes, I am," Sydney nodded, her eyes remaining steady and strong. She could sense something unusually evil about this man. It was the same feeling she got about Sloane, but this seemed even more twisted. She felt a tremble in her body finding it hard to imagine anyone more wicked than Sloane.

"How did you find me?" Palmer asked, demanding to be answered.

"We'll be asking the questions, Mr. Palmer," Sloane made clear. It was now that Palmer realized Sloane's presence and for a brief moment, fear flashed across his features. Sydney could see this emotion on his face, but it was gone before she could mention it. She glanced over to her boss, seeing absolutely no signs that he knew who Clark Palmer was. However, Clark Palmer surely recognized him.

Sloane motioned for the guards to take their new prisoner to the interrogation room. They half dragged Palmer past them and he purposely glared maliciously at them. He even went as far to spit at the feet of Sydney. She jumped back, her eyes widening slightly in surprise at his actions. She continued to watch Palmer warily until his form disappeared behind the closing doors. Sydney turned her attention to Sloane and Jack, wondering what the next step would be.

"Jack. You know what to do," Sloane instructed. "Get whatever you can out of him."

"I understand," Jack said monotone. He gave one passing glance to Sydney, before stalking away to do what he did best.

Interrogate.

------------------------

Palmer's face was slammed into the table again, his nose bearing the brunt of the impact. He let his head lay there for a moment, trying to absorb the hurt and ignore it. Jack didn't give him a chance to collect himself. He lifted Palmer's head again and pushed him back forcefully into the chair. Jack rolled up his sleeves and asked one more time, "Where are The Seven located? And I want all the locations, Mr. Palmer."

Palmer let the blood drip from his nose and he laughed maniacally. The pain was only fueling his disobedience. With labored breaths he got out, "You can't. . . do this to me."

Jack merely smirked, leaned down and said in a harsh whisper, "This isn't Leavonworth, Mr. Palmer. You have something I want and I will beat the living crap out of you until I get it."

Palmer sniffed loudly, trying to keep the blood from trickling down his face. He met Jack's stern gaze and he maintained his stubbornness, "I don't know what you're talking about, Jacky Jack."

Jack backhanded Palmer almost immediately and repeated more sinisterly, "This was only Round One, Mr. Palmer. Round Two will be something far worse then a slap in the face."

"Is that so?" Palmer almost growled.

Jack nodded, opening the door to reveal Vaughn. Palmer laughed and asked, "Is this good cop/bad cop?"

"Hardly," Vaughn told him sincerely and stepped in.

Jack left while Vaughn produced a folder he had been carrying. He held it up and dictated, "I've read your file. You can withstand physical pain for a long period of time, but you have an inherent psychological flaw. You hate to lose." Vaughn slammed the folder down, "You tried to ruin Commander Rabb's career a few years ago, remember? He pissed you off?"

"I don't see how this is relevant," Palmer shook his head, narrowing his eyes.

"We also linked you to about 800,000 thousand dollars that you placed in an offshore account under Commander Rabb's name," Vaughn continued, reading from the documents before them.

"How the hell is this relevant?" Palmer nearly screamed, slamming his cuffed hands on the table.

"You'll see in a moment, Mr. Palmer," Vaughn said, taking a seat in the opposite chair and remaining perfectly calm. He smoothed his tie and ordered, "Tell us where The Seven are located."

"I already told Jacky that I don't know," Palmer reiterated, but his voice gave away his confusion. They were too calm about this. They knew something he didn't and it was driving him mad.

"Okay, then, I'll bring Jack back in. . .," Vaughn stood up, but Palmer called him back.

"No, wait, I have a question," Palmer pleaded, not ready for another round with Jack Bristow just yet. He wanted to buy a few more moments of breathing time before "interrogation" proceeded. Vaughn took his seat again, waiting on the infamous con to speak again. Palmer made clear, "I still don't know what you're talking about, but I would like to know something out of pure curiosity."

"What's that?"

"How did you know about my mission to kill Dozier?"

Vaughn smiled and repeated, "Remember how you hate to lose? How you tried to ruin Rabb's career?" Vaughn stood to his feet and gathered up his papers. Before leaving, he stood in the doorway and told him bluntly, "Rabb is working for us."

Palmer stared at Vaughn blankly for a moment before bursting out into an uncontrollable, wicked laughter. He slapped his thigh, finding it highly amusing, despite the somber look on Vaughn's face. The door shut loudly, but Palmer continued to laugh and it could be heard through the walls. Slowly, the laughing became like a disease. It tore through him finding it incredibly ironic that Harm yet again outdid him. Harm was the hero. Harm was the double agent.

Harm was going to pay with his life for ever double crossing Allison Krennick.

**April 21, 2004**

**JAG Headquarters**

**Falls Church, Virginia**

Mac boarded the elevator, hard pressed to remember her morning. She could recall getting up and taking a shower. . .but before she knew it, she was at work. No memory of the drive, her breakfast, or how she managed to pick out the correct uniform.

The elevator jerked, commencing its ascent and that sudden movement startled her. Her eyes were now completely wide open and she pushed herself to stay awake. It was now she realized what little sleep she had gotten the night before. How could she sleep? She saw Harm. A living, breathing, fully healthy Harm whose hair had been dyed a medium brown and whose green eyes were tired, murky and empty. Not once did she catch that Rabb Smile nor did he take one chance to say hello. Was it really too dangerous to make contact? Did he have to run away like she was the plague?

There were so many things she wanted to tell him. She wanted to talk about that phone call where they desperately (and out of fear) expressed their love. She wanted to hold him and breathe life back into those cheerless eyes. She wanted him to rejuvenate her as well. She also knew how selfish all those thoughts were.

The elevator jerked again, coming to a stop at the appropriate floor. She kept telling herself to wake up and prepare for her work day. There was no doubt in her mind that AJ would keep her busy. Despite last night's events, they were still lawyers and she was still the Chief of Staff. Entering the bullpen, her mind was flooded with the face of Jason Tiner. With all that had been happening with Harm, Jason's fate had yet to be decided. Her attention immediately went to Jennifer's desk and the young woman was there. Mac could feel some relief wash through her, glad to see Jenn seemingly okay.

"Petty Officer?" Mac said softly, giving a small smile. "How are you doing?"

"Oh, just peachy, ma'am," Jenn smiled, clearly being sarcastic, standing up to greet Mac. Then Jenn went on a tirade, finally expressing all the grief that had been bestowed upon her since Harm's disappearance:

"It's bad enough to be living next to the Commander's old apartment. It's even worse that I've been having trouble finding another place to live seeing how Commander Rabb was paying half of my rent in the first place. Now that Mattie is with her father, I'm alone and I'm scared. And I have two NCIS agents parked right outside my door because something Jason. . .Ensign Tiner did put me in danger!"

Mac's face softened in empathy, wishing she could tell Jenn that Harm was alive and that Jason's actions were coerced, not purposeful. At least knowing that much would put her at ease for a little while. However, Harm's status as a double agent was information only privy to people who needed to know. Jenn, unfortunately, did not need to know. Mac stepped closer to the desk and offered, "I could help with the rent. . .if you want, Jenn."

"Oh no, ma'am," Jenn refused. "I shouldn't have burst out like that, ma'am, and I apologize for my behavior. I'll figure this out. . .somehow." Jenn bit her lower lip, then added quickly, "The Admiral actually wanted to see you, ma'am. About Tiner."

"Right now?" Mac asked to clarify.

"Yes, you can go right in," Jenn nodded, then buried her face in the paperwork piling up on her desk. Mac just nodded, setting down her briefcase on the floor. She knocked, heard the customary "Enter!" and strolled in. To her surprise, Sturgis was present also and both men rose to say good morning. After pleasantries were issued, she asked concerned, "Something you wanted to tell me, sir?"

"There's no use in tip-toeing around this, so I'll be blunt," AJ sighed, closing his eyes for a moment in thought. "The SecNav has ordered we hold an Article 32 hearing for Tiner."

"What?" Mac blurted out in disgust, then quickly amended her tone of voice. "I mean, that's ridiculous, sir! Tiner was being blackmailed!"

"Unfortunately," Sturgis piped up with his drone-like voice. "Someone got wind of Tiner's predicament and leaked this information to the press. Anyone who watches ZNN now believes that Tiner was an international spy. The American people want a trial and so does the President."

"The President?" Mac repeated, her voice now sounding small and helpless.

"You think he would ignore something like this post 9/11?" AJ asked, huffing and folding his arms. "Right now, Tiner is a scapegoat. Something for the American public to watch so that they can rest easier when another terrorist is put in jail."

Sturgis then added more, "The government will argue that Tiner could have always come to the authorities. They will try to prove that Tiner willingly chose to spy and report back to his superiors on your whereabouts, Mac. I'm sorry, but I wish we could turn back the clock and convince Sheffield that a trial is unnecessary."

Someone told the press? Mac couldn't believe her ears and she didn't know what to think. Questions ran through her mind, but they were probably the same ones AJ had asked the SecNav. Even still, she asked them anyway, "But what about the phone calls? Gunny told me he was going to . . "

"He got nothing, Mac," AJ said as calmly as possible. "The numbers on Tiner's phone were all untraceable. There's no way to tell for sure who called Tiner or if Tiner was telling the truth about them in the first place. Right now, there is no physical evidence saying he was blackmailed."

Mac could feel her knees starting to go weak, but she remained standing. She was cranky from little sleep and from lack of coffee. She could envision Sheffield's face giving the order; forcing Jason through an ordeal that was completely inessential. Punishing Jason was just a poor excuse to exercise his power, to please the press and to maintain a good face. Everyone in this room knew that. She immediately demanded, "I want to defend him, sir."

"You know you can't do that, Mac," AJ sighed, sitting down in his chair. He also motioned for the two of them to sit as well. "You're too close to the case. Sturgis will defend Tiner."

"You're being called as a witness for the prosecution," Sturgis said, trying to tell her gently.

"The prosecution?" Mac repeated, dumbfounded. She glanced over to her CO and asked cautiously, "Who's representing the government in this case, sir?"

"Now that Tiner is going to court-martial, Harm's official replacement will try the case," AJ leaned back in his chair, his face flashing a brief smirk. "You wouldn't remember her, Colonel. She was here before your time. Her name is Commander Meg Austin."

To be continued. . .


	22. Leak Part 2

Disclaimer: not mine

Author's Note: To bluejay65 and others concerned for the well being of Harm: Harm will get some relief...soonish. Probably not in the way that you would think. Trust me, it does all lead somewhere.

Previously: Chris Locke, one of the missing Marines from the mission in Iraq, winds up on the doorstep of NCIS. (Chapter 5 and 14) Jason turns to Mac to confess that he's been forced to do some awful things for an unknown orgainzation. (Chapter 17) Later, his story is leaked to the press and his fate is forced to be decided in the courtroom. Harm is suspected of double agency by Krennick. His frustration is finally unleashed when Krennick tells him he has more potential than the CIA ever knew. (Chapter 21)

**The Seven**

by e-dog

**Chapter Twenty Two**

"Leak"

Part Two

**April 21, 2004**

**JAG Headquarters**

**Falls Church, Virginia**

Commander Sturgis Turner had tried many cases and defended numerous clients. He had never had the "pleasure" of defending one of his own, however. It was indeed an arduous task to take on and seeing the terrified face of his client made it all the more difficult.

Ensign Jason Tiner was one of the few people at JAG Sturgis never got a chance to know personally. At the time, Jason was a Petty Officer and Sturgis was inclined to stick with Bud, Harm or Mac when it came to social outings. From what he knew of Jason, he was a good kid whose heart was always in the right place. How he was involved in this mess, Sturgis would never fully understand. While AJ and Mac had attended that gala the night before, Sturgis made a hospital visit to see Jason's friend, Ensign Raymond Martinson.

Initially, the questioning was in accordance with the investigation, but now that the entire country knew of Jason and his "horrible misdeed", the questioning would be crucial to his case.

**April 20, 2004**

**Bethesda Naval Hospital**

Sturgis held his cover loosely in his hands as he made his way to Room 188. The nurses had told him that Ray was paralyzed from the waist down and was still in his recuperating stage. He had remembered the ordeal that Bud went through after losing his leg. However, he could only imagine the heartache of physically having both limbs yet being unable to use them. He listened to the young ladies donning scrubs as they also expressed other concerns. Ray's best friend Jason had not been in to visit for a long time and they wondered where he was. Apparently, they hadn't seen the news yet.

Sturgis stood in the doorway taking in the appearance of the younger man. He had short, vibrant red hair and freckles. If it weren't for the faint signs of stubble under his nose and on his chin, he could've been easily mistaken for a teenage boy. His eyes were closed so Sturgis called softly, "Ensign Raymond Martinson?"

His eyes slowly opened revealing soft green pools and an innocence that could easily mirror Jason's. Registering that Sturgis was a Navy Commander, he quickly grabbed onto the bar above his head and hoisted himself into a sitting position. He said crisp and clear, "Yes, sir, I am. . was Ensign Raymond Martinson."

Sturgis smiled at the young man's fervor to remain formal and played along, "At ease, Ensign. I just have to ask you a few questions concerning your friend. . .Ensign Tiner."

"Jason, sir?" he repeated with concern in his tone. It was almost as if he expected Jason to have found bad luck. "Is he okay?"

"No, Ensign, he's not okay," Sturgis took a seat in a plastic chair next to the bed and gave a sympathetic look.

"Just call me, Ray, sir," the young man sighed and waved a hand over his body. "I'm really in no position to be called an Ensign any longer."

"Okay, Ray," Sturgis nodded, then started to question, "When was the last time you saw Tiner?"

"About. . .two weeks ago, sir," Ray closed his eyes, as if thinking very hard to remember all the details. He bit his bottom lip, then opened his eyes again and added, "He was here to tell me he got the job at JAG."

"How was Tiner's demeanor? Was he nervous about anything?" Sturgis asked gently, taking mental notes of everything he was hearing.

Ray frowned and admitted, "For a guy who just got his dream job, he did seem a little. . .down. But I think he was more concerned about me than anything else. Sometimes I got the feeling he felt responsible for what happened to me."

Sturgis nodded thinking about what Ray was saying and matching it up with Jason's story. This terrorist organization had threatened the lives of his loved ones if he didn't do as he was told. It never occurred to anyone what triggered this chain of events in the first place, but now he knew. To back up his theory he asked, "Would you mind walking me through what happened the night you were attacked, Ray?"

"Well, it has been a month since it happened," Ray sighed, his voice quivering slightly. Before he could begin, he wrinkled his brows and asked, "What does my attack have to do with Jason, sir?"

"I'm not sure yet. That's why I need you to walk me through it," Sturgis explained, sitting back in the chair. "Once you tell me your story, I'll tell you why it's relevant, agreed?"

"Okay, sir," Ray shrugged, using his arms to reposition his legs and make himself more comfortable. With difficulty he began, "We were just going out to have a good time, celebrating our new promotions. It all happened pretty fast, to be honest, sir. I was grabbed from behind and dragged into a dark alleyway. I yelled, I think. Jason followed, trying to help me, but I could see other people holding him back. They had metal baseball bats. Chains and their bare fists. I don't think I need to tell what they did to me, sir. I'm all the evidence you need to see that."

Sturgis grimaced slightly, viewing the almost non-existent bruises on Ray's face and arms. There was a bitter taste growing in his mouth just thinking about what these people did to Ray. Sturgis had asked his father countless times before how could the Good Lord let things like this happen to good people. Chaplain Turner, the always faithful and resilient, could only tell him that everything happened for a reason. In other words, Ray's injuries would amount to something positive sometime in the future. Sturgis grinded his teeth finding that hard to believe at this point.

Sturgis folded his hands trying to focus on his questions and not on his personal worries. "I need you think really hard, Ray. Do you remember your attackers addressing Tiner? Did they talk to him? Threaten him in any way?"

"I really didn't hear much chatter, sir. All I could hear was the wind of the bats rushing past my ears every time they took a swing," Ray recalled somberly, his eyes taking on a haunted look. Then he nodded and added, "But I was able to notice one thing. . .before I blacked out. It always seemed. . .odd to me, sir."

Sturgis perked up and eagerly asked, "What's that?"

Ray paused then said, "They held him. . .forced him to look at me during the whole ordeal. It was as if. . .they wanted him to remember it. I've always wondered if Jason knew the people who attacked me and that's why he felt so guilty. I just never got the courage to ask him. He was devastated as it was and I've been determined to be strong for the both of us."

**April 21, 2004**

**JAG Headquarters**

**Falls Church, Virginia**

"Sturgis?"

He snapped his head up startled upon hearing his name. It was only Mac. He smiled warmly and encouragingly. He motioned for her to come in. She complied eagerly and took a seat in front of his desk. Usually, Mac's presence in his doorway was surprising and her visits short. Today, he knew exactly why she was here. He folded his hands and asked nonchalantly, "Can I help you, Colonel?"

"How's it going?" she asked, clearly asking about Jason's case, but her question remained ambiguous enough that he didn't have to give a direct answer. He could just ramble on about the random nothings going on in his life.

While he shouldn't discuss details, he conceded and gave her a safe answer, "I'll be discussing a plea with Austin in about an hour. I'm confident."

"That's good," Mac forced a smile and sat back in the chair. Her heart was heavy, he could tell. He tried thinking of ways he could help her through this, but what could he do? Maybe the entire office had a clue of her feelings for Harm, but he knew exactly how she felt about him. Even though it had been nearly two years since her confession, he could tell nothing had changed. She still loved him deeply.

He checked the clock and concluded he had some time. Just maybe he could help her talk about it.

"Uh, Colonel. . .Mac," he began feeling disquieted. She glanced up coming back from the world she had drifted off to. He cleared his throat and asked indiscreetly, "Have you spoken to anyone? About . . .?"

"Harm?" she finished for him and he nodded in the affirmative. She chuckled ruefully and asked, "Does being questioned by NCIS twice count?"

Sturgis tilted his head to the side, giving her a askance glance as he scolded lightly, "Mac. . ."

She sighed weightily and shrugged, "I talked to Clay."

"About Harm?" he asked, his eyes squinting slightly in disapproval and in skepticism.

"Yes," she confirmed pointedly, but wouldn't look him in the eyes. She started removing non-existent lint from her uniform jacket clearly not ready to talk about anything. He wasn't going to let her ignore this issue, not when he knew her secret.

"Okay, let me rephrase," he suggested, then unloaded a barrage of persistent questions. "Have you talked to Clay about why you feel so guilty? About why you can't sleep at night or can't eat? Does he know what you told me? Does he know that. . ."

"Sturgis," Mac warned him this time, her eyes lit up with fear. She stood up quickly and shut his office door, then turned to him, "You really want me to kick your six right now, don't you?"

Sturgis stood up and said with all sincerity, "Mac, I'm serious. How long are you going to drag Clay along? How long are you going to bottle up your feelings for Harm? You told me, remember?"

"You forced it out of me," she argued weakly, leaning against the closed office door and shutting her eyes. She knew how stupid that sounded. He didn't force it out of her. . she wanted to say it. She opened her eyes again, feeling moisture and she blinked it away. She asked quietly, "Can I tell you something?"

"Anything," Sturgis nodded and they both sat back down.

"I never told you . . .Bud knew. The SecNav didn't find out until yesterday," she rambled. After a few more seconds, she finally got to the point, "Harm called me. . .early one morning. About a week after he was abducted."

"He did?" Sturgis said amazed. "Mac, how could you. . .?"

"Before you get on me for not saying anything, Harm made me promise to stop looking for him," she cut him off and found that non-existent lint on her jacket again. She blew hair out of her face as she paced the floor, "When he told me to do that. . .I just decided to keep the phone call a secret. I was beside myself. . . I didn't know what to do."

She paused, waiting on Sturgis to say something, but he was still. The silence was unbearable so she finished, "Anyway, Bud and I decoded the conversation and discovered he was actually leaving me a cryptic message. He didn't really want me to give up. To make a long story short. . .I saw him last night. At the gala."

With that bit of news, Sturgis was completely floored as he leaned forward and asked dumbly, "You saw him?"

"Yes, a few times. . .It's a long story, but I knew he would be there," Mac tried to explain. "Even though I was aware he would be there, seeing him still surprised me. He looked so different. . .his hair and his face. I dunno, Sturgis. He just looked different."

"Was he okay? Did he appear to be healthy? Did he acknowledge you or say anything to you?" Sturgis asked hurriedly. Her emphasis on the word "looked" didn't give him any confidence in Harm's well-being.

"He ran away from me like a scared jack rabbit," she chortled lightly, trying to find a little humor in this horrible situation. "I raced after him, even though I shouldn't have. He was running so fast that he accidently slammed into the Admiral. It all happened so fast. . .Before I knew it, Harm was gone."

"So close. . . ," Sturgis breathed, leaning back into his chair again and blinking slowly.

Mac made solid eye contact with Sturgis and said forlornly, "I know."

**April 21, 2004**

**Arlington National Cemetery**

**Arlington, Virginia**

It had only been four days since his admittance to the hospital, but he had specifically asked for her. Agent Chris Locke was using a cane to support himself and refused to be pushed around in a wheelchair. On the other hand, he still needed human support and that was why he called her. He trusted her.

Kate followed almost stepping on his heels, making sure she was close enough to assist Chris if he couldn't walk on any further. She checked their little map and then confirmed, "His grave shouldn't be too far now, Mr. Locke."

She could hear him laugh and say, "I've told you before...you can call me, Chris, Agent Todd."

His voice sent a slight flush to her cheeks and she returned with, "Then please call me Kate, Chris."

He glanced over his shoulder, his smile illuminating his face for now. Then he reverted his attention back to walking, making his way to his best friend's grave. After a few more labored steps, they approached the grave of Agent Mark Daniels, former United States Marine and loving countryman. Gibbs and the team had attended the burial of the agent, noticing the lack of family and friends at the funereal occasion.

Chris literally fell to his knees, dropping the flowers he was going to place near the headstone. Kate stepped forward to help, but he waved her off. He wanted to do this himself. She watched him, trying her best not to tear up. First she had attached herself to Mac, now she was attached to Chris. She couldn't help but get emotionally involved with the living victims. It was a habit that was hard to break.

He neatly set up the flowers, then pushed himself up to his feet. He took time to salute, giving a long hard look at his best friend's grave. Once he was through, he turned to her and said, "I'm . . . I'm ready to leave."

"Okay, Chris," she complied. He let her take his arm, giving him the crutch he needed. They took their time getting back to the car, little words being exchanged. Once there, Chris stopped her from opening the car door. His lips were pressed tightly together, his eyes suddenly dark and dismaying. She stepped back instinctively and said his name warily, "Chris?"

"Kate, I need to tell you something. . .," he sighed. "About The Seven."

"I thought you told us everything," she shook her head confused.

"No, I didn't tell you why they kept me alive. . .I lied about my escape. I never fought them off and I never ran," he told her shakily. "They let me go."

"I don't understand," Kate said, her eyes squinting even more bewildered.

"I knew them, Kate. They knew me. They disobeyed orders to kill me so that I could have a chance to live," Chris continued, his voice straining as if in pain to admit this. He gripped his cane and leaned on the car, trying to collect himself. "In some ways...I helped to kill him. To kill Mark."

At that statement, Kate let lose the air she was holding, not believing anything coming from his mouth. Not to mention how quickly his demeanor had changed. In the next few seconds, she studied him trying to pinpoint this change. He was concerned about Mark and blaming himself for the senseless murder. She had seen countless victims go though this before. It was making him talk crazy. She grabbed his arm lightly and said encouragingly, "Mark's death is not your fault, Chris. It was The Seven. . .not you."

"You don't get it, do you?" he asked her, his eyes showing a deep sadness and remorse. He pounded a finger into his chest, pointing at himself as he confessed, "I am one of The Seven!"

"Wh–?" Kate gasped, her expression clearly showing how betrayed she felt. Chris reached out to her, trying to grab her arm, but she backed away horrified.

"No, Kate. . .I'm not like them. I swear it," Chris pleaded with her. He repositioned himself up against the car, suddenly winded. She only backed up about two feet, so he asked politely, "Hear me out. Let me explain."

Her first instinct was to report this news to Gibbs, but her second instinct always took charge in situations like this. She folded her arms apprehensively, her lips taut and frowning. Her mind going back and forth on whether or not to give Mr. Locke the time of day.

"Agent Todd . . . Kate. The Seven used to be a group of good people," Chris sighed, closing his eyes while remembering the old days. "I know you know about Allison. After she took me from my home, I was shocked at the person I saw."

"So you lied about seeing Krennick as well," Kate sighed in a complaining voice. "You told us you never saw her. That you only heard her voice."

"I know. Her voice is very distinctive," Chris shrugged. "I was just counting on the fact someone else had heard that voice too."

Kate cautiously stepped forward, standing next to the now trembling CIA agent. "Tell me more about Allison. Tell me more about The Seven."

"I'm signing my death warrant right now, you know this?" he smiled half-heartedly. "Not that I have much to live for now, anyways." He waved for her to follow him and they found a nice large oak tree to sit under. They were surrounded by soldiers of the past. Honorable men who died for their country. The somber mood was just enough to make Kate shiver in anticipation. Coaxing this information out of Chris would be beneficial in accessing his state of mind. Once they were back at NCIS, then she could decide if he were telling the truth.

However, as she listened to his story, he was playing it safe. He gave her general information, mostly things she was already aware of.

"We started about ten years ago. I was a CIA agent then looking for something more, but I never told Mark about my decision to join. He opposed non-profit organizations claiming to help the "little guy" because 99 percent of the time. . . they weren't out to help people. They were really criminals using their organization as their cover. The Seven really was an organization set out to help people, but Mark would never really understand my passion. We were peaceful people. Allison was a Naval Commander who worked in the JAG offices, for pete's sake! Every one of us started out as good people."

"You feel guilty because this organization you believed in killed your best friend," Kate stated woefully, while Chris nodded.

"I met Allison during a JAG investigation, before the emergence of Harmon Rabb. She was unorthodox most of the time, but she knew her talents were being wasted at JAG. Especially after Rabb and Lt. Meg Austin joined the team. They were the top guns diffusing bombs, cracking computer code, flying F-14s and disproving alien sightings in Texas. Allison was wasting away at a desk occasionally snapping orders at Rabb or Austin during investigations."

"So she was bored?" Kate asked, her voice now showing her skepticism.

"I wouldn't say bored, Kate," Chris laughed, shaking his head at the memories. "She was restless. She had this desire, just like me, to take social and political matters into her own hands and do something about it."

"Illegally," Kate pointed out.

"No, you keep forgetting. The Seven was peaceful before we split up. . ."

"Wait, you split up?"

"Because the CIA, the FBI and every other government run police agency all thought we were a time bomb waiting to explode. Allison suggested to us that we go our separate ways to let things cool down. There was no point in getting exposed and being arrested."

"Was that the last you saw of your six colleagues?" Kate asked, careful not to ask directly who the rest were. She had a feeling Chris would never give up their names. He gave such an angelic description of the organization, constantly repeating they were "good" and "peaceful" people. There was no point in trying to get it out of him just yet.

"It was the last I saw of the five of them. . .Allison and I met up occasionally for lunch. That was when I noticed the change." Chris stopped there, his voice becoming dark and low. He bit his lower lip and mumbled, "I can't say anymore. I've practicably dug my own grave."

"Chris, no one can touch you," Kate tried to reassure him. "You're being taken care of, I promise."

She convinced him it was time to head back and repeat this story to Gibbs. From there, they would have to pass this on to Clayton Webb and SecNav Sheffield. Somehow all the factions were in a tentative joint agreement to pass on all information as it came in. She could only wonder how long that would last before one of the agencies decided to leave the rest of them behind.

To be continued. . .


	23. Potential

Disclaimer: not mine

Previously: Mark Daniels, Harm's mentor and friend at the CIA, is found dead. His death believed to be at the hands of The Seven. (Chapters 1 and 5) Harm encounters APO for the first time while trying to obtain a disk drive from Paulo Giacomo. (Chapter 10) Harm's Seven partner, Charles Trey is shot in the leg when Krennick loses her head with Palmer. (Chapter 15) Leslie Dozier and Clark Palmer were both obtained by APO to thwart any attempts on Dozier's life by The Seven. (Chapters 19 and 20)

**The Seven**

by e-dog

**Chapter Twenty Three**

"Potential"

**April 22, 2004**

**The Seven Headquarters**

**Somewhere in Chicago**

_What did I do to you? Why did you pick me?_

His head was pulsating rhythmically. A regular beat over and over again.

_You have so much more potential. The CIA was too blind to see that._

What the hell did that mean? Potential? To become the world's best super spy? He doubted it. So far his contradictions and his need to do the right thing were hindering that notion. There had to be another reason she was keeping him here. What was making him so valuable?

He tried to move, but found that difficult. Reznik really did a number on him and his entire body was feeling the aftershocks. He flickered his eyes, the dullness of his cell constantly reminding him of where he was. How long had he been asleep? Harm rubbed his head as he closed his eyes again, trying to prepare himself for the impending headache sure to come. When his mind started processing information lucidly once more, his first thought was of Mac.

"I'm so sorry, Mac," he mumbled aloud. He was about to apologize for being unsuccessful in protecting her, but a failsafe mechanism kicked in and shut his mouth. He had to remember he was back in his cell. This place was surely being monitored.

_"Harm?" _

Harm opened his eyes recognizing the voice, but not believing it. He blinked, refusing to be deceived. No matter how many times he blinked his eyes, the man he knew to be dead still stood before him. Harm leaned forward and rasped, "Mark? Is that you?"

Mark stood there, his form seemed wispy and unclear. Almost like a ghost or hallucination. He was wearing his fatherly grin and his hands were in his pockets accentuating his casual pose. He simply stated, "_You were a fine agent, Harm._"

Harm furrowed his brow in thought for he had heard these words somewhere before. Then he remembered exactly where and when he'd heard them. It was Mark's goodbye at the CIA. The day Mark warned him about the danger that no one saw coming. Maybe this was a daydream, but Harm didn't care. He could finally say his goodbyes to Mark and put his soul at rest. Harm strained a smile with his contused lips and said, "I'm obviously not good enough, Mark."

Mark put on a concerned expression as he said, "_Get out your frustrations right here or on a future mission your emotions will get in the way._"

"Future mission?" Harm repeated woefully. His emotions were being pulled in all directions now as he heard the faint voice of his mentor. Their old conversations playing out in front of him all over again sent his heart falling into a deep abyss of nothingness. This was nothing. It was pointless. Mark was not here and yet he was all at the same time. Harm needed that. He needed advice from him. He needed reassurance. Harm shouted through reluctant tears, "I just wonder if the sacrifices we make really amount to anything in the end! Do they matter at all?"

"_You just have to learn to pick up the pieces, dust them off and put them back together._" Mark told him, his soft encouraging eyes backing up his statement. He was always right, that Mark. He had all the answers. Even when he was dead.

"What if you're missing pieces? What if you can't go on any longer?" Harm asked exasperated.

"_I know this isn't easy for you, Harm,_" Mark sighed, stepping forward until he reached Harm's cot. He leaned down and whispered, "_Watch your back and keep your loved ones close. That mission where Andy died, may come back to haunt you._"

"Andy?" Harm repeated, as he watched Mark's form begin to disappear. "No, wait, Mark!" Harm stood up, but Mark just winked and completely disappeared. Harm walked around, looking for his friend. He was truly gone. His lips quivered angry that his dreams wouldn't leave him alone. Angry that he couldn't hold himself together and make it through this for Mac. Angry to discover that he was only human and not the hero he knew he could be. He was just Harm now. He was simply. . .

He squinted his eyes as he repeated aloud, "Andy's mission."

They were in Iraq, right? Harm's mind listed all the details: The Osprey, Beth O'Neill, the landmine that killed Andy. It was the one thing Mark was trying to tell him and it was the one thing Harm had ignored. That mission where Andy died. . .he died in Iraq! Why were The Seven in Iraq in the first place? Do they have a station there? Were they looking for something or someone? Maybe they were digging up valuable pieces of art. He had read about treasure seekers taking art and selling it on the black market. Suddenly it occurred to Harm that maybe all of the answers were buried in the sand dunes of Iraq. That was where it all began.

A large knock on the door shocked him. He opened his eyes, finding himself back on his cot. This time, he was truly waking up from his dream. His eyes darted around to make sure, but Mark was just a figment of his imagination. He was never here and it seemed it would take Harm a lifetime to accept Mark Daniels' death. On the other hand, there was that one lucid thought during the whole dream. The mission in Iraq. He had to figure out why The Seven were in Iraq.

His cell door unlocked and opened. A face he hadn't seen in a few days stepped into his space and nodded a hello. Harm sat up and mumbled, "Trey? Charles Trey?"

"Yeah, your partner, remember?" Trey sneered as he limped in on a cane. "Gee, a guy goes and gets himself shot, disappears for a few days and his partner forgets him. You're a piece of work, Rabb."

"What are you doing here?" Harm asked.

"Checking up on you," Trey shrugged. "I had heard the trouble you were in. I may have been a bastard FBI agent, but I was always loyal to my partners. And by the way, you look like shit."

For the first time, Harm put on a genuine smile and joked, "Now don't get all soft on me, Trey. It's making you look bad."

"Joking around now, huh?" Trey chuckled. "It wasn't that long ago you were moping around, fighting like a girl and screwing up missions."

"I guess you could say, I finally feel at home here," Harm said.

"Bullshit," Trey laughed, absentmindedly banging his cane on the ground. "So, you went from living in a cell, to living in your office, to living in your apartment, then back to living in your cell all in the span of a week. I'm impressed."

"Shut-up," Harm glared at Trey, but in a playful manner. It was sickening in a way, but once you took away the exterior of these people, they all had souls deep down inside. Just like every human, they desired to have conversation and interaction with other humans. For a few moments, every human wanted to forget their jobs. To forget the daily trials and tribulations of life. For a few moments, every human wanted to just sit back and joke around with other humans. Every human had an emotional weakness. Even Allison Krennick.

"Well, I can't stay long," Trey said, shifting weight to his good leg. "I'm sure you'll charm your way out of here in no time."

"Yeah," Harm shrugged, watching Trey limp out. He added thoughtfully, "I'm sure I will."

The door shut and he sat there contemplating his next move. Every human had an emotional weakness. Krennick was holding him for a reason. It wasn't a tactical reason. No. She could always find a better agent. Hell, she could pick someone much younger then him for this cockamamie scheme. This was emotional. Whether it be affection or something else, but it was definitely emotional. He had to hit Krennick where it hurt most.

Harm scanned the room for anything sharp. The room was entirely empty. He heard the creak of his cell door open again. He smiled elfishly.

It was lunch time. Time to put on the charm.

------------------------

Harm wanted to know so desperately what the hell his purpose was here, but she couldn't tell him! It wasn't supposed to work that way. She rubbed her tired eyes, trying to find a way to get around this, but in the end all she could hear was the soothing voice of her confidant telling her it was okay to tell him. That the rules of engagement were open to interpretation! They had already bent the rules so far by taking charge and nothing serious had altered their plans. Surely it would be alright to let him in on a secret that solely revolved around him. Krennick shook her head, still not willing to just expose the whole operation just because Harm had gone a little psycho.

"You know, Allison. If he doesn't want to comply, there are other methods."

"I know, I know. It's just. . .we need _him_ to do it," she sighed in frustration. "I guess it'll come down to how desperate I am. Whether or not I decide to break the rules to achieve the ultimate goal."

There was a beep on her intercom and she lazily hit the button and spat, "What?"

"Uh, ma'am? We have a problem."

------------------------

Krennick raced down the hall until she had reached the commotion at Harm's cell door. A few of her operatives held her back explaining the situation was intense and they didn't want her life endangered. In a blind fury, she grabbed the lapels of one of the younger operatives and shook him violently. She demanded to know what was going on. She had clearly frightened the young man as he sputtered quickly, "He's threatening to kill himself!"

"What?" she roared, releasing the young man from her claws and pushing her way to the open cell door. Inside she could see Harm standing on his cot, holding a sharpened buttered knife to his neck. About five men were inside with guns all aimed at him, but their attempts at intimidation were fruitless. The man was threatening to kill himself and obviously didn't care if someone else did the deed for him. She tried to laugh it off and waved at him to come down, "Harm, enough. You've made your point. I'll remove you from this cell."

"No," Harm told her, pressing the knife closer. "That's not what I want."

"I don't care what you want," she snapped. "I'll just have my men gun you down."

"No you won't," Harm taunted her. "I'm valuable. For what reason, I don't know, but I've given you enough reason to kill me by now." Harm watched her eyes narrow in frustration and it nearly made him grin in accomplishment. He spoke in a rigid voice, "Even if I could go back to my old life, it wouldn't be the same. I've realized I have nothing to live for. So, unless you tell me why I'm so important, I might as well end my life right now."

"And what about your friends? Of Colonel Mackenzie?" Krennick nearly yelled at him. "Will they want you to end your life like this?"

Harm knew this question would come and he was prepared. He told her plainly, "You've threatened to kill them if I screw up. As far as I see it, when I die, there will be no need to kill them."

"I could just kill them out of spite," Krennick countered, her voice bitingly cold.

"Oh, but that wouldn't be very satisfying, now would it?" Harm continued to mock. "Because either way, I would be dead and whatever 'potential' I had would be lost."

Krennick remained still for a moment. For one, he was right. Killing his friends would be pointless and unsatisfying because he wouldn't be around to grieve. Two, she had always known Harm to be brash and confident, but audacious as well? It really shouldn't have surprised her, but never would she picture Harm as suicidal. She thought the man had too much ego to take his own life. Maybe she was wrong.

She motioned for her men to lower their guns and when they were reluctant to do so, she screamed the order at them. She slowly advanced, but Harm was quick to warn her. Any closer and he would slit his throat right then and there. So she stopped in her tracks and tried one last time, "You wouldn't dare."

"Try me," Harm challenged her. When she didn't move, he demanded, "Tell me why I'm so important."

For the first time, she realized that Harm was serious. The stakes were high now. She couldn't lose him, not after all she went through to get him here. Sure, sending him out to do her dirty work was fun for a while, but he wasn't buying that anymore. He wanted answers and seemed willing to die if he didn't get them. Now having him die was out of the question. He needed to be alive. Now the question was, would she be willing to let him in on her biggest secret? Would she be willing to open up a piece of herself and let him see one of her darkest desires?

The answer was all to clear.

She told the guards to leave and to shut the door. Harm remained on his cot, the knife still in position as he watched the guards shuffle out. He gulped slightly. He was ready to do this. After careful consideration he determined that he was crazy enough to do it. He was convinced of that. He was crazy enough to kill himself if she didn't tell him. It would only be her fault anyway. She was the one who had driven him to the loony bin. She was the one to make him suicidal.

Of course a small part of him wanted her to just spill her secret. A small voice in his head begged him, please don't make good on this threat.

"Harm," she started out slowly, saying his name with a delicacy he had never heard from her. He listened carefully, positive she was ready to tell him what he wanted to know. Her eyes met his as she began to ask one question with a great sense of pride. "Have you ever heard of Milo Rambaldi?"

**April 22, 2004**

**APO Headquarters**

**Los Angeles**

Clayton Webb sat across the table from Leslie Dozier. The well renowned humanitarian was now sipping some water gingerly. A couple of days ago, he thought he had been pulled from the clutches of death by some unknown operation within the United States. He later learned they were some faction of the CIA. Black Ops. They knew about the accounts in Luxemburg and the group he was funding. They wanted to make a deal. He was still going to jail, they told him, that was a fact. What they could promise was a nicer sentence in exchange for information on The Seven.

"Look, I've told you what I know about them," Dozier repeated, wiping excess water from his mouth. He was growing slightly agitated. His life was already over, why couldn't these people just leave him alone?

"I think there's more," Clay shrugged, leaning back in his chair obviously not caring about Dozier's discomfort. "Just tell me."

"I only know Allison. I double crossed her a few years ago. I think she was out for revenge," Dozier insisted.

"Well, yeah. Duh. She sent someone out to kill you. I would say she was pretty pissed off," Clay said sarcastically. "Tell me about her then. If I like what I hear, then I'll pass along some good tidings to the judge."

Dozier sighed, still not believing this was happening to him. He used his hands animatedly as he spoke, "I came across an artifact. She wanted it. I told her I would give it to her, but it would cost her. I didn't think she could come up with the money, but she did. I took the money, but gave her a replica of the artifact instead. I guess she still wants it."

"What is this artifact?"

"I really don't know," Dozier murmured softly, his eyes becoming dreamy. "It seemed to have this. . .power. I couldn't give it up. It was too valuable." He paused for a few moments, before snapping out of his reverie. "Anyway, I knew I could sell it for a lot more then what she was paying me."

"Where is this artifact?" Clay asked, now highly intrigued.

"Can I ask you something, Mr. Webb?"

Dozier was sidestepping the question, but Clay would always ask again until he got his answer. He shrugged, "Sure."

"How many people did Krennick send after me?"

"Two, as far as we know."

"The first one to kill me," Dozier closed his eyes and folded his hands. "The second one to open me up."

"Excuse me?" Clay eyed him curiously. "What do you mean, open you up?"

------------------------

"Ohhhhhh, man. Ouch," Palmer moaned after his body was slammed up against the wall in the adjacent room. His already broken nose once again suffered the brunt of Jack Bristow's force. He laughed into the wall, his fingers clawing into the drywall in an attempt to stay on his feet. He jested wickedly, "You know? This is getting really old."

"Just tell me about your role in the attempted murder of Leslie Dozier and this will all be over," Jack promised, slamming Palmer back down into his chair. "We already know there is something inside him. Just tell me what it is."

"Okay, okay. You know what? I want some reassurances," Palmer slurred through some chipped teeth and swollen lips. "If Krennick ever found out that I betrayed her. . .I mean, she's gone loco, if you know what I mean. She may seem all together on the surface, but there are some screws lose. . ."

"I assure you, your cell block will keep you safe," Jack told him sternly. "Talk."

"The man put himself under the knife to protect his assets," Palmer continued to laugh like he was telling the funniest joke in the world. With his finger, he traced a line down his chest and exclaimed, "He cut himself open! He had doctors carefully insert a biologically safe container right into his chest! Rumor has it the damn thing is only this big." He then lifted up two fingers to show just how big it was. The space between his thumb and finger only an inch wide.

"What's in this container?"

"Hell if I know," Palmer answered, his eyes lighting up in glee. "I was going to rip him open after Harm killed him and take out the container. Harm didn't know about that part of the plan, though. Krennick liked to keep secrets from him." Palmer continued to chuckle, then added wickedly, "You know what? I was really looking forward to dissecting that guy. The lucky bastard!"

------------------------

"It's a key," Dozier finished up somewhat nervously.

"A key to what?" Clay managed to speak again after hearing that story. What man would purposely insert a key into their own body? He assumed a desperate one and Dozier definitely sounded desperate.

"I can't say anymore," Dozier became solemn and quiet. He stared at the table, twiddling his thumbs.

"Why not?"

"I can't give it up," Dozier said, suddenly in a trance.

Clay stared at him curiously. What the hell was wrong with this guy? Somewhat stuck in his wonderment of the situation, Clay managed to ask one more question, "Did anyone else know about this artifact?"

"One guy did. His name was Paulo Giacomo," Dozier confessed. "I was going to sell him the artifact. I gave him the information on another computer chip that could only be read by one particular device. It wouldn't have been very useful to Krennick. It only outlined the specs and material the artifact was made out of. It didn't have the location."

------------------------

Jack Bristow was taking refuge behind his desk and for good reason. Sydney, Vaughn and Dixon were standing before him all with grievous expressions and aggressive stances. His daughter had always been highly suspicious of Arvin Sloane, but now it appeared she had dragged Vaughn and Dixon along for the ride as well. It wasn't like anyone here at APO didn't have a reason to detest Sloane, but now was not the time for personal vendettas. According to surveillance in Chicago, Harm never made it back to his apartment. While he was currently MIA, these three were pursuing questions that would probably never have answers. Naturally, Jack's patience was wearing thin. Their focus should really remain on finding Harm. They couldn't afford wasted time.

"You think Sloane is involved with The Seven?" Jack repeated, squinting his eyes thoughtfully.

"We could've easily followed Harm to their headquarters," Sydney pointed out, staring at her father like he had two heads. Couldn't he follow the logic here? She forged on confidently, "Instead, we extracted him and to what end? We still don't have an exact location on their central office. Both Dozier and Palmer refuse to give us anymore information. We're back where we started."

"Sloane has always had an ulterior motive, Jack," Dixon added his urgency. "You of all people should know this."

"What I don't know is why," Jack shrugged. "What _is_ Sloane's motive?"

"What's always been his motive?" Vaughn asked rhetorically. "Rambaldi. Whatever is going on with The Seven has to do with Rambaldi."

"So now we're going on assumptions, Mr. Vaughn?" Jack narrowed his eyes. His tone was clearly irritated and getting tired of this conversation. "We've been following The Seven for years. Everything they have managed to steal has been everything but Rambaldi artifacts. I don't see the connection."

"That doesn't mean we should rule it out, Jack," Dixon replied. "Dozier mentioned something about an artifact that Krennick wanted badly."

"Not to mention, Palmer recognized Sloane," Sydney tried a different angle. "The moment he laid eyes on him I could see it in his face. Palmer was scared. . .if only for a moment. He. . ."

"I can see you three are not going to drop this," Jack interrupted her and stood up. "However, you have nothing substantial to take to Director Chase. As much as I would like to see Sloane rot in a cell, there is nothing we can do. He will remain our boss and we will follow his lead within the limits he was given."

"He's leading us into a trap. I can feel it," Dixon mumbled as he turned to leave. Right behind him was Sloane and Dixon nearly slammed into him. All four of them grew silent, staring at their distorted reflections in their boss's lenses.

"I need to see you all in the conference room," he ordered. Nothing about his demeanor gave away he heard any of what they were discussing. Sloane left them feeling somewhat dumbfounded and unsure. Vaughn remained still, his face completely disappointed. Then he stepped out. Dixon followed him. Sydney also remained quiet, her silence resonating volumes of hurt that her own father couldn't trust her. It wouldn't be the first time they had disagreed on matters like this, but his lack of trust in her still caused damage just the same.

Reluctantly, Jack led Sydney out of his office and into the conference room. Marshall was already there, setting up the presentation. Sloane was handing out folders. As he did this, he prompted, "Mr. Webb? Please take the floor."

"As per agreement, NCIS has handed over information involving our case," Clay began, hitting a button on a remote. Both pictures of Allison Krennick and Clark Palmer were displayed. After hitting another button on the remote, he revealed a third person by the name of Chris Locke. Clay then proceeded with explanations, "You don't know this man, but I do. Locke used to work for the CIA. He was one of the men kidnapped by Krennick and was also on Harm's team during that mission in Iraq back in October '03. He claims to be a member of The Seven."

"Krennick kidnapped one of her own? Why?" Sydney wondered aloud.

"We don't know. Agent Todd was the one to get this information out of Locke. She explained that Locke left out details. He mostly spoke in general terms, occasionally giving pertinent information. You will find most of that conversation in your dossiers. You will notice that he has been disillusioned into believing that they were once 'good people'," Clay replied, then clapped his hands together. "Anyway, I was just suggesting to Marshall that we start making lists of people associated with either Krennick, Palmer and/or Locke. Maybe we can figure out who the other four members are."

"That's a good idea," Sloane agreed, then turned to Jack. "As far as I'm concerned, both NCIS and JAG have exhausted their function in this whole ordeal. Whatever we are dealing with is out of their league. Call them. Tell them this joint operation is over. There is no sense in involving them any longer, especially with the potential of unwanted casualties."

"Understood," Jack complied.

"Our next order of business is Dozier," Sloane continued. "He mentioned that only one other person knew of the artifact. That was Paulo Giacomo."

"As you will recall, both Sydney and Vaughn were sent to Milan to intercept The Seven's attempts to steal a disk drive owned by Giacomo," Clay added. "This explains Krennick's interest concerning Giacomo in the first place."

"Now just because Sydney sabotaged the drive, doesn't mean The Seven won't go to great lengths to restore it," Sloane warned. "This is why Dozier will have a scheduled surgery to retrieve the key from within him. Maybe once we have that it'll give us a clue as to where this artifact is located."

"Does anyone have any idea what this key is?" Sydney asked, clearly a common question amongst the group.

Marshall smiled and shrugged, "Well, I have to admit I have a few theories." He whipped out his folder and produced some color copies of various keys. "Now, we know the box is only so big, so the key can only be so small in order to fit inside. . ." His fidgety hands began to spread out the various pictures in a row on the table, his voice excited and jumbled, "I kept wondering if it were a house key, but really, whose house key is that small...unless you live in a dollhouse. You know the little guy at home has developed this love for dolls and it scares me a bit, because I would prefer he play with Ninja Turtles or something."

He paused realizing he had gone off on a tangent (yet again) and the group was waiting patiently. However, their patience was wearing thin. He laughed nervously, wishing just once he wouldn't embarrass himself like this, "Anyway, I considered padlock keys, safe keys, locker keys, skate shoe keys...any key that is within the parameters of the box inside Dozier. Naturally, we really won't know for sure what the key is until we get it out of him."

"Of course," Sloane agreed, than addressed everyone. "That will be all."

------------------------

**April 22, 2004**

**The Seven Headquarters**

**Somewhere in Chicago**

Milo Rambaldi was a great prophet, philosopher and physicist of the 15th century. Most of his ideas were considered ludicrous at the time. He envisioned highly intellectually appealing technologies and several puzzling devices that only he understood. Pope Alexander VI admired Rambaldi's efforts, but the Vatican feared them. Their agents destroyed almost all ties to his work rendering them almost untraceable, which was what made his artifacts so valuable today.

Nearly a half century after Rambaldi's demise, his technological advances intrigued the spy world. They became the root of espionage's most capable and powerful weapons. But Allison Krennick's quest wasn't necessarily about taking over the world. Nearly ten years ago, seven people (including herself) started an organization believed to help out the little guy. Only that was their cover story. They were really starting their own cult. To be more precise, it was a cult within a cult. They were the Followers of Rambaldi, a group of fanatics bent on bringing his visions to life. Every one of them had been introduced to the wonders of Milo Rambaldi. Every one of them had been intrigued by his thoughts, his skills and his prophecies. Only seven of them were intrigued by one particular piece of the puzzle that other organizations had overlooked.

Harmon Rabb was that piece.

Not Harmon Rabb, Jr., but his father.

"Wh- What are you saying?" Harm sputtered, still standing on his cot. The knife wasn't as dangerously close to his neck as it was before, but he refused to bring it down completely. He stared at her like she was disturbed as he asked, "Are you saying he's still alive?"

"Oh no, Harmon. He is quite dead. You already know that," Krennick cackled slightly. "But you are his son. His blood flows through your veins."

"I can't believe this." Harm rubbed a sweaty hand over his forehead. He had heard some crazy stories in his time, but what Krennick just told him was beyond insane. He felt an uncontrollable laughter erupt within him as the pieces fell together. She put him through all of this for . . .for his bloodline? He licked his chapped lips and asked in a slightly amused tone, "All of this. . .was for my blood?"

"You've got it," Krennick nodded. "You were the next best thing considering good ol' dad is buried somewhere in the mountains of Russia."

"You need to see a psychiatrist," Harm told her flatly.

"You need to face reality," she countered, her voice now rigid and sharp. "You can't deny your destiny."

"No, what I can't deny is that you're crazy."

"Harmon. .."

"You could've taken me to a damn Blood Drive and retrieved my blood that way!" Harm nearly yelled at her. He animatedly pointed at himself. His voice trembled in anger now. "Why put me through all of this?"

"It's not that simple. We need your entire body. . .and you have to stay alive," Krennick told him. "Your mission to Germany, to Milan and to Washington D.C. were all connected. Those men had something crucial to this entire thing. The last piece was you. If you follow me, I can fill you in on everything. I can make you believe."

"Believe what? That you're a lunatic? You're doing a fine job of that already," Harm sneered, refusing to pull his knife away. At this point, he was ready to make good on his threat and end his life now. He was pretty sure there was no other way out of this mess.

"You don't get it, do you? Your father was being pursued by early Rambaldi followers! He stayed in Russia because he couldn't come home!" Krennick pushed, stepping forward so she was closer to Harm's cot. "Yes, his death was an accident, but for nearly 40 years a piece of Rambaldi's prophecy could never be fulfilled. Now it can."

"Because of me?" Harm reiterated. Krennick nodded to confirm and he leaned up against the wall to brace himself. He couldn't believe this. . .he didn't have to believe this. He could feel a nervous sweat forming on his brow. He lowered his head in thought. One thing was still bothering him.

"If my life was so important, why not just keep me locked up until you had all the pieces?" he asked, his voice very small and curious. "I risked my life on those missions."

"It was written that only you could put the puzzle together," Krennick told him somberly, folding her arms across her chest. "I could only guide you. You had to figure the rest out on your own." Harm still seemed unsure, so in a sing-song voice, she asked with a devilish smirk, "Your father had a secret, Harmon. Don't you want to know what it is?"

Hook, line, and sinker. By the looks on his face, she knew she had him. He slowly lowered the knife, then dropped it. It clanged loudly on the floor as he carefully lowered himself off the cot. Harm stared at the ground, still thinking this over. A part of him wanted to say no, but a bigger part was too damn curious to walk away. She could be lying, but he was willing to risk that to learn something more about his father. It was just like he said. Every human had an emotional weakness. His weakness was his father.

"I'm ready."

"Good." Krennick waited on him to approach her and once he was close enough. . .

"Aghh!" Harm jumped back, tripped over his own feet and crashed down to the ground. He couldn't move but he could feel the burning sensation near his abdomen worsen by the second. He could only mumble in pain as he spied the stun gun in her hand.

"Let's get back to reality, okay Harm?" she spoke in a vile manner. She kneeled down threatening to shock him again. "First, you are my prisoner and you acted out of line. That deserves some kind of punishment so don't expect to get off that easily. Secondly, while this little operation revolves around your father, this is not about realizing your dream. This is _my_ dream. For some reason, we crossed paths. I am a Follower of Rambaldi and you are a piece to one of Rambaldi's puzzles. You are here on my behalf and your little death threat will not keep me from realizing my dream."

Harm could finally move without aggravating the spot where he was stung. He shut his eyes and said through clenched teeth, "I want to know about my father."

"Well, that makes two of us," Krennick sneered as she rose from the ground. "If you feel you can walk on your own two feet, then follow me."

Harm was still too stunned to walk, but he found a way to stand up. He swayed for a moment, still regaining his bearings. Before he could attempt to step forward, Krennick faced him one last time. Her expression obscured by dark shadows and a hellish determination. "I must warn you, Harm. You're not going to like everything you hear, but I don't care if you like it or not. Like I said, this isn't about benefitting you. I abducted you for a reason. Do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal." Harm muttered. He willed his legs to work as he followed Krennick out. Many of the guards that had threatened to gun him down earlier, followed him closely as they walked. It was at that point he wondered, would learning anything more about his father be worth the risk? He truly had no idea what was in store for him.

He wondered how much longer his sanity would hold out.

To be continued. . .


	24. It's Not Over Till

Disclaimer: not mine

Author's Note: Thank you for you patience again. School got in the way.

Previously: Corporal Brian Hanson goes missing during Harm and Mac's case (Chapter 2). Sturgis interviews Ray, Jason's friend, who was attacked (Chapter 22). Leslie Dozier reveals that he implanted a key into his body to hide it from Krennick. Krennick finally reveals why Harm is so valuable. APO has concerns when Harm doesn't return to his apartment after the mission in Washington D.C. They also cut off JAG and NCIS from the investigation, leaving both organizations stranded (Chapter 23).

**The Seven**

by e-dog

Chapter Twenty Four

"It's Not Over Till . . ."

**April 22, 2004**

**Outside NCIS Headquarters**

It was early morning, the parking lot just beginning to fill up with groggy worker drones. It was surprisingly crisp and cool, giving Gibbs a sense of reluctant completion. The smell of coffee hung in the air, but not even that could calm him right now. First of all, Ari managed to get away once again. Usually, that fact alone would be enough to ruin his entire lifetime. Today, he had more disappointments to deal with on top of losing the infamous Ari Haswari.

The wind flittered his short, grey locks as he stared at the horizon. It was a funny thing, gazing at the seemingly endless sky only to be smacked with the harsh reality of the horizon. It was the clear cut, definitive line showing that, yes, the sky does run out. Everything that begins eventually comes to an end.

Just like his Missing Persons cases.

The mystery behind Mark Daniels was over. This man with no family to speak of; who was a US Marine and served his country proudly was at rest. His body was recovered, finally taken into CIA custody and buried at Arlington. It was a fitting ceremony for someone so dedicated to just and good causes. It was confirmed that Mark was abducted by The Seven based on burn marks and abrasions similar to the next victim. They had the suspect, victim and motive. Case closed with no arrests.

The mystery behind Corporal Brian Hanson was over. Originally on the run for murdering his Commanding Officer, Brain was later found dead. Secrets revealed that Brian was simply trying to stop his CO from hurting anyone. In short, Brian's body was recovered with a note from The Seven. The same burns and bruises as Mark. There was a suspect, victim and motive. Case closed with no arrests.

Lastly, Harmon Rabb, Jr.'s disappearance was solved. He and Mark were working on the same mission that supposedly landed that whole team in trouble. His apartment was ransacked, a certain Lt. Colonel was hurt and confused, and his team was baffled by the odd connections to the two other bodies sitting in their morgue. To make this long story short, a group working under the CIA found Harm and recruited him as a double agent. Once again, they had the suspect, the victim and the motive. . .but no arrests.

No arrests because now they were being pulled from the case by their own director. Gibbs now observed the horizon line in bitterness. This didn't have to end now.

He was refusing to look his boss in the eyes because if he did, he could very well knock that man's block off and not regret it. His team had found Ari because they were persistent. They could find these lunatics too, given the right resources and the proper leeway. Gibbs remarked, obviously agitated, "We can locate this group, sir. Make them pay for what they did to that Marine."

"It's out of our jurisdiction now, Jethro," Director Morrow insisted. "This is not the FBI or the CIA I've got breathing down my neck here. This is a whole new ballgame."

Gibbs suddenly turned to face the man dashing his hopes at catching these bastards. He entered into his personal space, breathing heavily on the older man's skin. It was a pointless attempt at intimidation as he almost yelled, "Then who the hell is breathing down your neck, _sir_?"

"Besides you?!?" Morrow almost yelled back with the same ferocity. "Just look at the facts, Jethro!"

"I am, sir," Gibbs sighed, still holding his aggressive stance. "I see an innocent man being forced to become two people. A terrorist and a Naval Officer."

"You're missing the bigger picture," Morrow sighed heavily. "Bristow called me. Told me that they had everything under control and that we should never try working together ever again. I tried calling back, but no one at Langley has ever heard of a Jack Bristow. Not to mention, Clayton Webb, who used to work under Harrison Kershaw has vanished right along with Bristow. For all we know, Rabb could be dead and they were just yanking our chains!"

Gibbs shook his head in the negative and pointed out to nowhere, "Rabb is alive somewhere. I saw him with my own two eyes, sir. We find him, we find The Seven. We find who murdered Hanson and Daniels."

"The answer is still no, Gibbs," Morrow sighed wearily and watched as Gibbs's boiling temper reduced to a simmer. He finished solemnly, "Harmon Rabb is no longer Navy. He's . . . something that we can't touch. Jack Bristow made that very clear."

Damn him. Damn Jack Bristow. He was right, but damn him anyway. It was a miracle they were able to stay on the case this long, but now there were absolutely no Navy or Marine ties linking them to this case. They had nothing. Gibbs had a few more choice words for his boss, butthere was no point in wasting his breath.

On the way back inside, Gibbs kicked over a trash receptacle in one last attempt to display his rage. He had lost Ari. He had lost Harmon Rabb.

He had lost everything.

**Two weeks later. . .**

**May 7, 2004**

**JAG Headquarters**

**Falls Church, Virginia**

The days passed.

The bullpen at JAG slowly returned to some sense of normalcy. It had been exactly 1 month, 14 days, 5 hours and 29 minutes since Harm was abducted from his home. At this point, most of his co-workers and colleagues were convinced he was dead. The NAVY had sent a messenger to his parents telling him of his Missing In Action status. Only Mac, Sturgis and Bud were completely sure that Harm was still out there somewhere. His office had been occupied by Commander Meg Austin the first day she arrived. She was confident Jason's Article 32 hearing would send him straight to court martial.

Mac couldn't blame Meg for her resiliency. She was returning to a place she used to call home, however, she was being considered the "new guy" all over again. Meg didn't want to give the impression that she was some push-over, therefore she pressed on and insisted Jason go to trial. Not to mention the SecNav was breathing down her neck every step of the way. Someone had to go to jail at some point for these crimes. The bullpen rallied behind Jason. They showed support by sitting in on his hearing. As predicted, the judge ruled he go to court martial. That was when Jason surprised everyone, including his lawyer Sturgis.

"You want to plead out?" Sturgis repeated, sitting across from Jason in the brig.

"Yes, sir. Guilty," Jason told him, his gaze fixed on the wall behind Sturgis. He refused to look anyone in the eye.

"But why? We can win!" Sturgis said defiantly.

"No, sir. I don't want to _win_," Jason shook his head with just as much fervor. "I want to clear my heart of all this guilt. Every time I see you or the Colonel or Jenn. . .I feel guilt."

"What about Ray's testimony? He's living proof that you were coerced," Sturgis pushed, not willing to give up even though it appeared that his client had.

Jason kept his head down and then mumbled something Sturgis couldn't hear. When Sturgis asked him to repeat himself, Jason slammed his cuffed fists into the table and yelled, "Look at me! Damn it! Look at me!"

Sturgis jumped back, his chair screeching as he did so. His eyes widened in surprise at the young man's outburst, but he did as he was told. He looked at him. Sturgis was stunned at the wild look in Jason's eye. The creases and wrinkles that made him look far older than he really was. A tremendous weight was lying heavily on this man's shoulders and it hurt too much to look any longer. Sturgis finally motioned to the guard outside that everything was fine. He cleared his throat and replied, "I am looking at you, Tiner."

"No, you're not. You see me, but you don't look at me," Jason reiterated, his voice back to that calm he had before. He sunk lower in his chair, his body language saying it all. He was done with all of this. "Sir, you say I have Ray's testimony. You want to know what I think?"

"Sure," Sturgis responded, his voice barely audible.

"I think about what Ray would've done in my shoes," Jason smiled weakly. "What if I were the one in that hospital bed and those bastards had contacted him? He would've done things differently. The way I should've done them."

"You can't say that without knowing for sure, Ensign," Sturgis told him as gently as possible.

"I _can_ say that, sir. I know it," Jason said fiercely. "I was scared. I spent too much time as a yeoman at JAG; safe behind its walls. Too much time reading the law and not understanding it. Too much time lying to myself. That by stalking Colonel Mackenzie, I was protecting everyone else. I was wrong. Any jury would be insane not to convict me."

Sturgis knew there was no turning back at that point. The following day, Sturgis set up another plea discussion with Austin. He informed her of Jason's decision, but she finally softened as she expressed her opinion on the evidence. They agreed on a much lighter sentence for Jason's sake and Sturgis couldn't have been any happier with the results.

Mac, on the other hand, had insisted she talk to Jason herself, but Sturgis told her it was no use. He wouldn't listen to anyone else and what was done was done. It was like Jason had said, no one was looking at him. All they could see was the person Jason Tiner used to be. They couldn't look at how tormented he was. They couldn't look at the guilt weighing him down.

------------------------

The NCIS team was bitter, but now their cases (and the morgue) were backlogged. Agent Gibbs had a new sharpened focus and that was concentrating on the other crimes his team had ignored for the last month. Although, Kate did manage to slip up during a conversation over lunch with Mac. She claimed that Gibbs was spending his nights at the office. He was scanning all databases for signs of Ari. He wasn't ready to give up.

As for herself, Mac had lapsed into a new routine. Almost every night, someone arrived at her place for dinner. Whether it be Kate, Tony, Victor or Sturgis, someone was there to make her empty home feel safer. The Marine in her would never let anyone stay the night, however. She always sent her guests home around 9 p.m. confident that she would be fine on her own. Out of everyone, Victor was more animate about staying, but eventually conceded and went home just like everyone else.

When it came to matters concerning Harm, Victor was her go to guy. He had remained her connection to Clay, playing the middle man and delivering messages back and forth between the two. Clay felt he was safer behind the walls of whatever organization he was working for. He felt Mac was safer staying at home. For the moment, the system was working and Mac couldn't complain. Nonetheless, time was creeping by with very little changes. In the last couple of weeks, the information had been the same.

"The key found inside Dozier is a copy, not the original," Victor repeated for the fourth time that week. He was chomping merrily on some cheese and crackers after having gone all day without sustenance. He had grown accustomed to these weeknight visits to Mac's apartment seeing that there was always the promise of food. Tonight, it would only be the two of them, so he was free to talk about the case with her. He wasn't allowed to address Kate or Tony about matters such as these. Technically, he shouldn't have been telling these things to Mac either, but Clay said he would take the heat for any trouble that might arise.

"So that means you can't figure out where it came from," Mac sighed, sitting down with two soda cans. It was the same conclusion they had come to before.

"And for whatever reason, Dozier isn't talking," Victor shrugged, his face looking rather puzzled. "He has said himself he doesn't want to give it up. Clay thinks his superiors are ready to try other methods in getting him to talk."

"Torture?" Mac questioned, a frown creasing her face.

"More like a truth serum," Victor corrected. "Believe me, ma'am. I would never condone such treatment of any prisoner."

"Go on," Mac nodded.

Victor finished, "We've lost valuable time with conventional methods. Seeing how Dozier's key is a copy, someone else out there has the original. We need the location of this artifact. We need to find out before The Seven does."

"What about Harm?"

Her voice was quiet. Harm was a delicate subject and Victor never had anything promising to tell her. "It's been the same for the last two weeks. He's never shown up at his apartment and The Seven have been eerily quiet."

"What is going on?" she asked aloud, but didn't expect an answer. It was frustrating, to say the least, that this organization had surprisingly gone into hiding. For a while, there seemed to be nothing but activity and chaos. Then after Dozier's gala, all traffic came to a crashing halt. It was almost like Krennick and her team were waiting. Waiting for what? She yawned realizing she was too tired to ponder this tonight. Instead, she changed subjects, "AJ has been acting strange."

"Yeah?"

"I think he's ready to leave," Mac smiled sadly. "He hasn't said anything yet, but everyone can feel it. I just wish he could hold on a little while longer. For Harm."

"He won't leave before Harm gets back, ma'am," Victor smiled into his soda can, gulping down large amounts of the liquid. He set it down and promised, "We'll make sure of that."

She smiled briefly, but the mood returned to a dispiriting one almost instantly. They sat in silence for a few moments. Victor noticed the creases in her forehead and the distant look in her eyes. He called softly, "Ma'am?"

"I'm just tired, Victor." Her statement was simple, but the meaning was much deeper. He could tell she was exhausted in every aspect of her well-being. Physically, emotionally, spiritually. She rubbed her eyes and repeated, "I'm just tired."

Victor stared at his empty plate. He sighed as he replied, "I know. We all are."

**May 8, 2004**

**NCIS Headquarters**

Forensics Specialist Abby Scuito pranced around her lab with a fervor no one could match. The workload was heavy, but she lived for busy days like this. Her black as night pigtails bounced and her white lab coat flapped like a cape as she bounded from one machine to the next. DNA analysis, chemical readings, fingerprints and trace occupied her plate today. It was such a delectable serving of truth, justice and the American way.

"Hey, Abby," Kate greeted her, not looking up at first as she walked into the lab.

"Hey, Kate!" Abby grinned. Her friend finally looked up and broke into a smile. Adorning Abby's face were those silly joke glasses with the dangling eyes. Abby shook her head up and down causing that spring reaction to flip, fling and flop the eyes in all sorts of directions. The goofy, wild expression of the bright green eyes only made Kate laugh harder. Abby rolled over on her office chair and asked as seriously as possible, "What can I do for you, Agent Todd?"

Kate tried not to laugh again as she flipped through her paperwork. "Um. . .Gibbs is demanding the results for the Greggs case. Again."

"Tell him he has to wait," Abby said firmly, rolling back to her desk.

"He's really edgy today, Abbs," Kate warned, then motioned towards her eyes. "I would take those off before he sees you."

"Aww! But they're too much fun!" Abby whined, before removing the silly glasses and setting them aside. She shrugged, easily finding another toy on her desk to amuse her. She spun back around to catch Kate as she walked out the door, "So, who's the new guy?"

Kate paused, then threw over her shoulder, "What new guy?"

"I dunno. The one who has you all dreamy-eyed all the time," Abby teased.

"There is no new guy," Kate insisted, but was bumped aside by Tony. He stormed in with that stupid smile on his face, holding up a cell phone. She immediately recognized it as her own. This was the fifth time today he had stolen it from her desk! Without reservation, she shouted at the top of her lungs, "_Tony!!_"

"I don't know, Abby. Let's take a look-see," Tony grinned, flipping through the contact list on Kate's phone. "Is the lucky winner Steve? Rick? Carlos?"

"Ooo, Carlos," Abby repeated happily, doing a little cha-cha in her seat and rolling the 'r'.

"Tony, give that back," Kate demanded, lunging forward. He easily eluded her as he continued to pry.

"Wow, Carter, Clark, Carl. . .have you got a thing for names starting with 'C', Kate?" Tony playfully remarked, then gasped. "Chris? As in Chris Locke?"

"That's none of your business," Kate finally snatched her phone back, then added testily, "And Clark is my distant cousin from Minnesota, thank you very much. Not every man on my contact list is my boyfriend."

"But Chris Locke? You have _his_ number?" Tony stood in front of her refusing to let her escape.

"I only have it for emergencies. He's convinced someone is out to kill him," Kate explained, but her friends weren't buying that for a minute. She rolled her eyes at their juvenile behavior. There was never ever going to be anything going on between her and Chris Locke. For one, he had admitted to her that he was really one of the terrorists! Even still, there was no point in arguing. Eventually, Abby would let this go and move on. Tony on the other hand. . .

"_Riiiight_," Tony winked at Abby and elbowed her gently. "For _emergencies_."

"I'm done talking to you," Kate jabbed him hard in the arm with her fist. He yelped obnoxiously in mock pain as she left them. She immediately bumped into Gibbs. He didn't look very happy, but he wasn't emitting anger either. He looked apologetic. Still assuming he was upset, she began, "Sorry, Gibbs. Tony stole my phone. . .again. Abby said the results will be a little longer."

"I just got a call from the CIA," Gibbs spoke gently. Kate could already tell what was coming, but she let Gibbs finish. "Chris Locke died of alcohol poisoning and a drug overdose. . .just hours ago at Mercy Hospital. They think it was suicide."

First shock registered on her face, then remorse. Kate hugged herself as Gibbs rubbed her shoulder in comfort. She managed to pull herself together and ask, "Why did they call us?"

"They said Chris had listed you as a contact in case of emergencies and/or death," Gibbs shrugged, his perplexed tone of voice signaling his confusion. "Did you two become extremely close in the last few weeks?"

"I guess we were friends?" Kate expressed indifference, shaking her head confused. "Honestly, I only really talked to him that one time, when we went to visit Mark's grave." She took a deep breath, trying to shake off the bad news but unable to rid herself of any guilt. With a wobbly breath she asked, "Can we. . .?"

"I'm ready when you are."

As they walked toward the elevators, Kate asked, "Who called it in?"

"That's the strange thing," Gibbs said, his eyes squinting tightly. "Chris called 911."

They boarded the elevator as Kate repeated, "Chris? If he wanted to kill himself than why. . .?"

"I don't know, Kate," Gibbs shrugged. "That's what we're going to find out."

They ventured out to the parking lot, the midday sun a stark contrast from the slightly chilly weather of a couple of weeks ago. He opened the passenger side door and helped her inside. Predictably, the tires screeched as he roared out of the lot. It seemed no matter where Gibbs was driving to, the speed limit was always 65 miles per hour. Kate held onto the door handle for dear life out of habit more than out of instinct. Her mind remained focused on Chris. He had told her he was digging his own grave by talking about The Seven. She doubted his death was an accident. If only she had paid attention more closely, maybe he would still be alive.

Gibbs, on the other hand, kept his focus straight ahead. Funnily, they were heading in the direction of the horizon. That definitive line that signaled all things eventually come to a close. It was a good thing that line was so far away. For a moment there, he felt this case had come to an end way too soon.

To be continued. . .


	25. The Truth About Harmon Rabb Sr Part 1

Disclaimer: not mine

Previously: Jason Tiner decides to plead guilty to the charges of conspiracy. APO has cut off JAG and NCIS from the investigation, leaving both organizations stranded. That is until Gibbs informs Kate that Chris Locke has died of an apparent suicide. Chris listed Kate as an emergency contact.

**The Seven**

by e-dog

Chapter Twenty Five

"The Truth About Harmon Rabb, Sr."

Part One

**May 8, 2004**

**Mercy Hospital**

**Washington D.C.**

The two NCIS agents made their way through the hustle and bustle that represented all major hospitals nowadays. It was eerily similar to the television show "ER" and this unnerved Kate. It was scary how close to reality the entertainment industry could come when situations like this occurred. Nurses and doctors ran this way and that, shouting orders and completing tasks. Patients made all sorts of noises: moaning in pain; smiles full of teeth thanking a doctor for their medication; the sounds of discomfort and release when waking up after surgery. Kate used to always wonder how anyone could work in such a high stress environment. . .then she joined NCIS.

Gibbs didn't seem to mind the commotion. He was actually a part of it. He was having a little shouting match with one of the nurses, who refused to give them access to Locke's room. He insisted that Kate was on his emergency contact list and that gave her a right to see him. The nurse "didn't give a damn". She was given direct orders to keep everyone from entering. . .even his family. Then Gibbs demanded to know who ordered such a thing. They got their answer.

"I did Agent Gibbs. I was also the one who called your agency to inform you of Mr. Locke's death."

It took him a moment, but Gibbs recognized the CIA agent addressing them. It was the same jerk who argued with him over the transfer of Mark Daniels' body. Gibbs sneered and greeted with a half-hearted, "Good morning, Agent Harper."

"Gibbs."

Gibbs continued to smile scornfully as he asked pointedly, "So, you think Locke really died of alcohol poisoning?"

"Hey, I heard the guy was a party animal, so it's plausible. Besides, his cause of death is not why I called you in." Harper wore a smug grin on his face as he spoke. It was Kate he was really after and he made an effort to ignore Gibbs. "Care to tell me why Chris Locke has you on his emergency contact list?"

"He trusted me, I suppose," Kate shrugged, trying to answer any of his inquiries carefully. By the way he was eyeing her, she could tell this line of questioning wasn't going to benefit her.

"Why would you say he trusted you?" was Harper's next question. "Was your relationship more than platonic?"

"No. It was _purely_ platonic. Look, you guys already know that I talked to him," Kate shrugged again.

"You talked?"

"Yeah. At Arlington cemetery," Kate reminded him. He still continued to give her a perplexed stare. Why didn't he know what she was talking about? He seemed like an agent with enough clearance to know about such things. So, she began to elaborate, hoping to jog his memory, "There was a joint agreement a little while back. I handed over the conversation we had, then you guys called cutting off all ties and severing us from the case. You don't know about this?"

"Not at all," Harper shook his head, the grin gone. He really was confused. "When did we have a joint agreement on anything involving Locke?"

Gibbs was listening carefully when the answer to Harper's confusion came to him. The conversation he had with his boss, Morrow, came flooding back into his memory.

"_We can locate this group, sir. Make them pay for what they did to that Marine." _

"_It's out of our jurisdiction now, Jethro," Director Morrow insisted. "This is not the FBI or the CIA I've got breathing down my neck here. This is a whole new ballgame." _

"He really doesn't know," Gibbs cut in, then firmly patted Harper on the back. "Look, we're sorry we wasted your time. Let's go, Agent Todd."

Gibbs gave Harper nor Kate time to think as he started to walk away. She merely followed Gibbs down the hall, trying to sort out what just happened. When Harper was out of ear shot, she asked in a hushed whisper, "Mind explaining that?"

"The CIA didn't get that report, Kate. Clayton Webb and Jack Bristow are the ones who are supposedly in charge, but they don't even exist according to Langley," Gibbs explained, pressing the down button on the elevator.

"But they said they were CIA," Kate said, now feeling terribly bewildered herself.

"I know and maybe they are, but no one at Langley knows about them," Gibbs replied in a slightly enigmatic tone. The elevator doors opened and they stepped on. After the doors closed and they began their descent, he continued, "Then again, they could be another organization like The Seven. Maybe those two groups are rivals. I don't know, but I do know Jack was very persistent we back off."

"Which means we're not backing off anymore," Kate sighed.

"Exactly," Gibbs smiled at her as they left the elevator and made their way to the exit. "We have a Naval officer out there who was kidnapped from his home, possibly tortured, forced to run errands for a backwards organization and has now supposedly disappeared from anyone's radar. It's our obligation to find out what happened to him."

By now they had reached the car in the lot and Kate was leaning on her door. "Do you think Chris knew too much about Rabb?"

"Yeah, I think so," Gibbs nodded, now his eyes showing an intense focus on finding Harmon Rabb, Jr. "I also don't think Mr. Locke died of alcohol poisoning. This was murder."

"They ruled it suicide, Gibbs. Last time I checked, that wasn't a crime you could actually punish," Kate reminded him with a taut smile.

"Suicide is still illegal in some states, Kate," he said somewhat jokingly, but added distressingly, "Homicide or suicide, we still have a dead ex-Marine on our hands who listed you as a contact. That tells me he wants us to find something."

"To the crime scene?" Kate proposed as they finally entered the vehicle.

Gibbs started the ignition and agreed, "To the crime scene."

**May 8, 2004**

**Chris Locke's Residence**

**Capital Heights, Maryland**

It was a small neighborhood full of deteriorating townhouses. A few dogs barked here and there as they exited their NCIS issued sedan. They stood in the small parking lot viewing the miles of police tape that had been stretched across the front yard. It was hard to keep the locals from being curious especially since their homes were literally attached to Locke's, so Gibbs wasn't surprised to see some people peeping through their blinds. Kate was in the trunk pulling out her kit, when Gibbs told her to stop. She put it down and asked, "Why?"

"Technically, we're not supposed to be here," Gibbs reminded her. He opened the kit just to hand her a pair of latex gloves. "Just the gloves. We don't want to leave prints."

"Okay," she said as she took the gloves and put them on. They approached the front door to find it locked. "Should we try the back?"

"No, we'll enter through the front door," Gibbs said as he pulled out two small, skinny tools from his pocket. He began to jimmy the lock until it gave way. He pushed the door open and said politely, "After you."

"Wow, I didn't know you could that," Kate smiled as she stepped in carefully. "I might need you to help me out with something later."

"Yeah? What's that?" Gibbs asked suspiciously, following her inside.

"Tony has this 'secret drawer' that he always keeps locked," Kate grinned mischievously. "I've been trying to think of a way to get back at him. Breaking into that drawer was one of the ways I thought of."

"What's in the drawer?" Gibbs asked curiously.

"His little black book," Kate replied. The answer would have sounded more coltish if she hadn't been distracted by the condition of the townhouse. Unlike the outside, which could have obviously used some maintenance, the inside was spotless. This dashed any notion that Chris was a party animal, like Agent Harper claimed him to be. Everything that Chris owned, which didn't seem like much, was neatly packed away on top of shelves or in drawers. Papers sat neatly on the coffee table or were stacked on his desk. Nothing was out of place. Kate could only guess that training in the Marines made him such a neat freak.

"I'm going to check the kitchen."

"I'll take the desk," Gibbs said, still surveying the room as he made his way across the floor. He carefully flipped through papers. Phone bills that were slightly overdue. A matchbook from a bar with a female name and number scrawled on the inside. It seemed he wasn't going to find anything useful until he came across a manila folder. There was a name written on the tab, which he read aloud, "Lt. Harmon Rabb, USN."

Now here was something he could use. His curiosity peaked, he paged through the file only to discover this wasn't who he thought it was. The service picture was plenty old and so was the format of the file. This Harm had a mustache, but that was the only distinguishing feature. The rest of his appearance made him a carbon copy of his son, Harmon Rabb, Jr. Gibbs could only chuckle lightly to himself, "Well. Isn't that something?"

While Gibbs was making his little discovery, Kate was finding something else quite interesting. Vomit was on the floor near the sink, indicating that someone did drink a little too much the night before. Or maybe it was food poisoning. No one would know for sure until evidence was collected, which brought another point to light. It seemed as if nothing had been touched. There were no markers for where pictures had been taken, if any had been taken at all. There was nothing indicating anyone else had been here but the paramedics, who carried Locke's body to the hospital. Which crime scene investigator examined this place?

She found a bottle of vodka sitting on the counter. There seemed to only be about a quarter of the liquid left also pointing in the direction of someone drinking way too much. Right next to it, a bottle of pills. That too was nearly half empty. She sighed not believing Chris would ever kill himself. He was afraid that someone else was going to kill him, so why would he commit suicide?

She opened the refrigerator to find nothing but an open box of baking soda.

She searched the cabinets and drawers next. There wasn't much there to speak of either. Gibbs stood in the doorway as she gave the report, "There's nothing else here, besides some crackers and cookies. Only one bottle of alcohol. It's nearly empty."

"Pretty strange for a guy who's supposedly an alcoholic to only have one bottle of liquor in the whole place," Gibbs remarked, looking around. "Usually you find empty bottles all over."

"Maybe he took out the trash?" Kate suggested.

"Yeah. We'll check that next," Gibbs agreed, then he spied the vomit. "Even a drunk man knows when to stop once he starts to upchuck." He kneeled down to get a closer look and commented, "And it's all confined to this one little area. No splatter. What does that tell you?"

"He was possibly close to the ground when he got sick. . .maybe lying down," Kate shrugged, then questioned, "Can people vomit while they're asleep? I bet Tony can answer that question for me. . ."

"Well, I'm betting they can. If not lying down, then he was keeled over on his hands and knees while getting sick," Gibbs tried another theory, but shot that down the moment he thought of it. "Even still, there would be a little splatter from a few inches off the floor."

"What does it matter? Doesn't prove it's homicide or suicide either way," Kate sighed heavily. "What did you find?"

"A service record for a Harmon Rabb," Gibbs told her, waving the folder. "Only, it's not our Rabb. I think it's his father."

"His father?" Kate repeated inquisitively. She took the folder to read for herself. He was a pilot, just like his son, only he had gone MIA during the Vietnam war. She too noticed the uncanny resemblance between both men. They could've been mistaken for twins if people didn't know about the age difference. "Why does Chris have a file on Rabb's father?"

"Good question. Maybe if we. . .," Gibbs began, but a loud whistle slicing through the air cut off his sentence. Time seemed to slow down as both Gibbs and Kate turned their heads to the sound. In a flash, time sped back up just as quickly. The front of the house literally exploded as a small timer ceased it's whistling sound and a bomb went off. Gibbs instinctively tackled Kate to the ground as he shouted, "DOWN!"

They hit the deck, listening to glass shards and pieces of wood fly through the air. Debris landed all around them. Screams were heard from neighbors, who were most likely fleeing their homes. Now escaping didn't sound like a bad idea. Gibbs pulled Kate back up off the floor only to find the front exit blocked by flames and dark smoke. Ash was beginning to form and breathing was becoming more difficult. The structure moaned and creaked, signaling it was going to give way any moment. The heat was suddenly unbearable.

"Gibbs!" Kate shouted, as she yanked him backwards. The second floor came crashing down in the very spot he had been standing just seconds before. If not for Kate, he would've been crushed. It was definitely time to get out of here!

"This way!" he shouted, although he wasn't sure if he knew where they were going. He just knew he had to take charge. He had to find a way to save them. Finally spotting the patio door, he pulled his gun and started firing. The glass shattered and they both charged through, just as another explosion ripped through the house. The blast pushed them across the backyard and they rolled in the grass away from the burning house.

They covered their heads as one last explosion sounded before a calm took over. Kate coughed violently, trying to dispel remnants of ash from her throat. Then she laid eyes on the burning structure, the flames beginning to eat at the adjacent buildings. Sirens were heard in the distance. People shouted out of fear. It was utter chaos and all Kate and Gibbs could do was watch.

Laying in the grass they watched the evidence of Chris's murder go up in flames.

That was lucky. Really lucky. If they had been at the front of the house instead of in the back, they would've been dead. Kate coughed again, shaking ash out of her hair. She stared at Gibbs who was covered in dust and grime as well. She was breathing hard as she asked, "Are you alright?"

"Shouldn't I be asking you that?" he groaned as he tried to sit up.

"Not necessarily," she replied, helping him to sit up. "I am younger than you therefore, I could possibly withstand a force as great as that one with more resistance. . ."

"Are you saying I'm old, Agent Todd?" Gibbs nearly smirked.

"Uh. . .Well, yeah, Gibbs. I'm saying you're old. . .older," Kate fixed her earlier statement and added a weak smile to accompany it. They both stood to their feet, focusing on the flames again. "That explosion was a little excessive, don't you think?"

"Not if they wanted us dead," Gibbs answered dispiriting. He brushed more dust off his coat, then tore his gloves off. "We might as well have burned up in that place."

"May I ask why?"

"One, we dropped the file on Rabb and it's probably ash by now. Two, the Director is going to kill us," Gibbs replied with a slight grin.

"Think he'll fire us for trespassing on a crime scene where we didn't belong?"

"Most likely."

Kate shut her eyes tightly and groaned. When she opened them again, she spotted Agent Harper working his way around the burning house. He was covering his mouth with a cloth to block out ash. He had heard voices and wanted to investigate, but was floored by what he saw. He stared at them disbelievingly and yelled, "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Maybe we should be asking you that," Gibbs countered. He was puzzled now. How did Harper arrive at the scene so quickly?

"What am I doing here?" Harper growled, glaring at them. "When you left, I got curious. I wanted to figure out what was really going on. Instead, I find you two snooping around where you don't belong _and_ you torched the house! I should have you fired!"

"We came to collect evidence, not torch the house," Gibbs explained. "We're just as curious as you are, Agent Harper."

"Excuse me!" shouted another unfamiliar voice. All three of them turned to the sound. A portly man was walking up waving at them. Short dark hair, a bright smile and a dark overcoat. He screamed CIA. "I'm Agent Weiss! I'm from a branch in Los Angeles! We need everyone off the premises right now!"

"Now wait a minute!" Harper yelled at Weiss, instead of directing his ire at Kate and Gibbs. "Los Angeles? What are you doing in D.C.?"

"Agent Locke was a major player in one of our investigations," Weiss explained. "We had intel concerning his well-being. Unfortunately, we didn't get here in time."

"You sure as hell as didn't," Gibbs muttered.

"I'm sorry, Agent Gibbs. You and your partner, along with Agent Harper must leave," Weiss instructed again.

"How did you know my name?" Gibbs mumbled curiously.

"Please Agent Gibbs. All will be explained later," Weiss smiled, leading them away from the house, which was now being doused with water by fire trucks.

**May 8, 2004**

**Mac's Apartment**

**Georgetown**

Kate Todd had arrived around 5 o'clock in the evening. Her face was still covered in soot as she smiled at Mac with the oddest expression. "Kate?" was Mac's surprised greeting as she took in the disheveled appearance of her colleague. She let Kate enter and immediately put some coffee on. The visibly tired NCIS agent removed her coat and thanked Mac for her hospitality on such short notice. It had been a very long day.

"What happened?" Mac asked worriedly. "You look like you got hit by a bomb." Kate's pause and shrug told Mac she wasn't too far from the truth in her assumption. She let her eyes widen as she rephrased, "You were _hit_ by a bomb?"

Kate told her everything. Finding the circumstantial evidence in Chris Locke's kitchen. The file on Harm's father. The explosion that nearly killed them. Lastly, the mysterious agent from Los Angeles, Agent Weiss. Weiss claimed to be a friend of Clayton Webb. He was also doing a very good job of distracting both Harper, Gibbs and Kate, while his team cleaned up the burned rubble. He explained that there had been several other incidents just like this one. He believed someone was trying to cover up the murder with the bomb. The exploding device itself was very low tech. Inexpensive and only meant to start a fire. A fire would be enough to destroy any evidence. Anything with more fire power and the entire house would've rocketed into space, with Gibbs and Kate inside for the ride.

"Everything we thought we found is gone. Burned up," Kate finished, sipping the coffee with great satisfaction. Mac offered her a wet paper towel. Kate took it graciously and wiped at her face. When she removed most of the mess, she sighed, "When Weiss was finally done talking to us, I could only think of coming here first."

"I appreciate it," Mac smiled timidly, grasping her mug tightly. "So, the file. It was just a service record?"

"As far as we could tell," Kate nodded, then added with a curt laugh. "We didn't really have a chance to read it."

Mac fixed her eyes on the napkin holder on her table. After all Kate had just been through in the last few hours, she decided to stop by this apartment first without concern for herself. Mac suddenly felt selfish. She glanced up at Kate and asked sincerely, "Are _you_ okay?"

Kate chucked ruefully and shrugged, "I almost died today. I think I'm taking it pretty well."

"That's what happens when you start involving yourself with Harm," Mac smiled into her mug. She took a quick sip and finished, "Your life is constantly in peril."

"I take it you two have had some exciting adventures?" Kate asked, her eyes twinkling sportively.

Mac's mind took her back through the years. The CIA missions run by Webb. The trips to Russia. Who could forget all the cases that involved any type of aircraft? With a nostalgic expression, Mac said softly, "Yeah. We had some interesting experiences together."

Kate chuckled and suggested half-seriously, "Well, if you find your life suddenly isn't as exciting as it used to be, look up NCIS. We could use someone like you."

--------------------

Loud knocking broke her from a deep slumber. It was the first nap she had taken in weeks and the first time she was beginning to feel rested. It was a crime against humanity to have something wake her up now. The knocking persisted and there was no ignoring it. She groaned into the arm of her couch, her back screaming at her for being so negligent. It was a bad idea to lay down on the couch and now her spine was paying the price. She slowly sat up as she heard the knocking again. There may have been a voice too, but she couldn't make out who it was or what they were saying.

"Hold on! I'm coming!" she called out. She stretched as she stood, then yawned. It couldn't possibly be Kate again. She just went home not too long ago. After fully waking up, Mac leaned up against the door and looked through the peephole. Her breath caught in her throat. It couldn't be. Then she could hear his voice.

"Mac? Open up! Please!"

There was no mistaking _that_ voice. She didn't think twice as she threw open the door and instantly pulled him in for a hug. Surprisingly, he cut the embrace short and slammed her door shut with great force. He apologized for being so noisy, then noticed how sleepy she looked. Did he wake her? He was sorry if he did, then he spun around in a circle viewing the entire apartment before stopping to look at her again. She stepped forward, wanting to regain the contact she had only felt briefly, but he was moving around again. It was finally she noticed something was amiss, "Harm? Are you okay?"

"Me? I'm fine, Mac. Just fine. Can I have a drink?" He spoke quickly and in a slightly higher pitch than normal. His hands constantly ran through his hair. He was so damn fidgety, it was making her nervous. What the hell was wrong with him?

"Harm, why don't you sit down. . ." she suggested, but he was already in her kitchen raiding the cabinets for a glass. She had to literally skip to keep up with him and found him by the sink. He was filling the glass up with water, letting it overflow. She watched him completely stunned as he let the water run over the edges of the glass and spill on his hand. After a few minutes of this, he finally seemed satisfied and he cut the water off. With his drenched hand, he lifted the cup up to his mouth so he could drink. He swallowed nearly half the glass in one gulp.

"That's good. Really good," he remarked, flashing his smile at her then whizzed past her again. She turned around to find him sitting on the couch. When she slowly approached him with the most befuddled look on her face, he cordially smiled and greeted her, "So, how are you doing Mac?"

"I . . .," she stuttered, her voice creaking and quivering. There was something terribly wrong here. She hastily crossed the room and found her gun. She checked it to make sure there was still ammo. She knew there was, but she wanted to be sure.

"Mac? Mac, what are you doing?" Harm stood up extremely fast, dropping his now empty glass on the floor. "Stop! No guns!"

"Are you alone?" she asked, then she realized a new fear. She pointed her gun at him, her eyes showing her dread, "Are you really Harmon Rabb?"

"Yes, yes, I'm Harm!" He waved his arms as he spoke, his eyes glowing with desperation. "Pl-Please. . .no guns. No guns. I'm alone." He pointed at the door. "I'll show you. No one else is here." Her gun followed him as he moved and opened the door. He stepped out into the hallway and waved for her to take a look. She reluctantly made her way out into the hallway to find it empty. He smiled weakly at her and stared at her sincerely, "See. No one but me."

"Harm. . .," she spoke softly, almost like there was no breath left within her. She lowered her gun and met his eyes again. It took some searching, but she found him deep within those pools of green. She could see this man was Harm, but something was obviously different about him. "Harm, what happened to you?"

"I see you're still in uniform. I need my uniform," he told her, ushering her back inside the apartment. "I need it. . .for a disguise."

"Harm, listen to me," she grabbed his arms to keep him still. It wasn't enough to hold him. He tore away from her, then shut her door. He paced the floor muttering something about his uniform and needing to travel to somewhere. His constant murmuring was driving her crazy. She grabbed hold of his arms again and literally threw him into the couch. He wisely stayed seated as she sat down next to him.

Then he repeated, "I just need my uniform."

"Harm," she said as calmly as possible. "I have so many questions. . .you're not making any sense."

"Questions, questions. We all have questions, it just depends if there are answers to those questions," Harm told her, staring at his hands. "We have to search for the answers." He twiddled his thumbs and shrugged a few times. His sleeve moved and she noticed a burn mark. Her mind flashed back to Mark Daniels and Brian Hanson. Circular burn marks eluding to the use of electrodes. Electric shock therapy. She grabbed his hand and pushed the sleeve up so she could see for herself. His arm revealed several strategically placed marks on his skin. He immediately went into spastic mood, "It's okay. . .okay. That's nothing. No, don't touch. . .leave it alone."

"What did she do to you?" Mac demanded, her voice dripping with rage. She was suddenly seeing red and she wanted nothing more than to take out her wrath on Allison Krennick.

"I wouldn't listen. . .but I listen now. It's fine," Harm pulled his arm back, his eyes closed tightly as if trying to forget something horrible. One more time he requested, "I just need my uniform."

"Okay, I'll bite. Why do you need your uniform?" Mac couldn't seem to get through to him. As angry as she was, her concern for Harm was growing exponentially.

"A disguise," he repeated. He glanced up at her. Worry registered on his face as he asked, "Are you okay, Mac?"

"No, I am not okay," she admitted. "You are really scaring me and I'm really confused."

"I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizing, please," Mac begged, inching herself away from him slowly. Before she could even contemplate getting up, he grabbed her hand. He held it tightly, intertwining his fingers with hers. At that instant, her eyes burned. Tears brimmed on the edge, threatening to cause a flood. She tightened her grip on his hand and forced herself to look at him. In that moment, her mind could finally register that Harm was back. He was here in her apartment. He was alive and that fact alone sent waves of relief through her. She couldn't keep all the tears in and one did ultimately escape. He instantaneously reached up with his free hand to wipe it away.

"I know you told me to stop apologizing, but I'm sorry just the same," Harm said quietly. He kept his gaze on her and broke into a smile, "I'm really glad to see you, Mac."

She blinked her eyes, trying to regain her composure and forced a chuckle, "Me too, Harm."

"I'm tired," he announced, his voice even softer. His eyes suddenly droopy and his posture beginning to slump.

"Okay," she responded, unable to find any other words. She helped him to lay down on the couch and watched him drift away. He laughed weakly as he told her how much he had to run. He was running so fast and for so long. He was so tired. Within seconds, his breathing became even and calm. His mumbling stopped and he was asleep.

Now was her chance.

She made one last ditch effort to make sure it was really Harmon Rabb lying on her couch. She gently traced the outlines of his face finding no signs of make-up or surgical marks. She searched his pockets. Her fingers felt cool metal and she retrieved a chain with a ring on it. She gasped realizing the ring was her own! How did he get this?

She held the Marine Corps ring in the palm of her hand, studying it. On closer inspection, she found her name engraved on the inside. It was definitely hers.

Moments later, she found herself in the kitchen, leaning on her counter. The phone was attached to her ear listening to it ring on the other end.

"Webb," came his customary reply.

"Where is my ring, Clay?" she asked, while she stared at the very item she was requesting in her own hand.

"Excuse me?" he stuttered after a few moments of silence.

"My Marine Corps ring," she repeated, her tone more vehement. "Where is it?"

"I was going to tell you eventually. . ." he started.

"_Clay_."

"I stole it from you and I'm sorry. I needed it to convince Harm that you were safe. I knew he wouldn't cooperate unless he knew you were okay."

Mac was watching Harm sleep as Clay spoke. She was swinging the chain absentmindedly now. Clay called her name a few times, but she simply said goodbye and hung up. After a few seconds, reality hit her again. What was she doing? Harm was back! For how long, she did not know. Why he was here? She did not know. Why did he have to run? Why couldn't he sit still for more than two seconds? So many questions and she needed the answers. In a flash, she was by his side again, shaking him awake.

"Wh-what?" he flickered his eyelids, before opening them completely. "I'm sorry...I fell asleep."

"Look at me," Mac ordered and was happy when Harm did so. Finally, his full attention was on her. "I need to know what happened to you."

"What do you mean?" Harm asked, his eyes looking shameful and sad. "I'm okay. .. You see that, right? I came back to see you."

Mac was at a loss of words again. His voice was so small and childlike. His eyes beamed with fanciful rays of felicity, then just as quickly flashed signs of sorrow. She never meant to give the impression that she wasn't glad to see him. "Harm, I'm overjoyed that you're here with me. That's not the problem. You do understand. . .you're not acting like yourself."

"It's this," Harm spat at her, his lips shuddering in anger. He rolled up his sleeve and showed her the bandage on his other arm. "That's where she poked me. . .that syrup went in that way."

"Syrup? Like a poison? You need a doctor," Mac told him.

"No! I need it. . .for the mission," he said exasperated. He suddenly looked tired again and his eyes drooped. "I'm sorry...not making sense, but this stuff in me. I don't even know when I'm awake half the time. Am I awake?"

"You're awake, Harm," Mac answered him, a sense of sympathy and bitterness waving through her. What "syrup" was Harm talking about? What was flowing through his veins to cause this kind of behavior? Why wouldn't he let her take him to a hospital?

"Good. I thought I was dreaming," Harm whispered, his eyes closing again. He continued to speak, but his speech grew softer with each word. She had to kneel down to hear him finish, "In my pocket. . .the paper." Then he was gone, his body relaxed as he returned to a deep slumber. She could only sit there in wonderment. Harm was determined to accomplish something, she could tell. Just how much of it should she believe? His demeanor wasn't what she would call normal and this worried her.

She contemplated her options. She could call Victor and arrange a special escort to a hospital. She had a good feeling that Krennick didn't just let Harm leave The Seven for kicks and giggles. He escaped somehow. Calling 911 would be a little risky, because those avenues were probably being watched closely. On the other hand, Harm didn't want her to call any paramedics. He needed the "syrup" for a mission. What mission? There was only one way to find out, she presumed.

She searched his pockets again and found the paper he spoke of tucked neatly on the inside of his jacket. It was more like a series of papers folded into tiny, tight squares. It took her a moment to unravel it without tearing the fragile material in her hands. The first paper was a sheet of normal copy paper with normal word processing type. Her eyes widened as she read six names and one question mark. She scanned it nearly twenty times before she could believe it. These people listed here were The Seven.

Only one of the members remained a mystery.

As if that wasn't shocking enough, the other papers contained text that was hard to believe.

To be continued. . .


	26. The Truth About Harmon Rabb Sr Part 2

Disclaimer: not mine

Previously: Kate and Gibbs nearly lose their lives investigating the apparent suicide of Chris Locke. Kate relays what happened to Mac explaining the discovery of Harmon Rabb, Sr.'s service record in Locke's home. Later that evening, Mac gets a surprise visitor: Harm! Only Harm is acting very strange and the piece of paper in his pocket is even stranger.

**The Seven**

by e-dog

Chapter Twenty Six

"The Truth About Harmon Rabb, Sr."

Part Two

**May 8, 2004**

**Mac's Apartment**

**Georgetown**

"_The man in my dreams possesses an unusual power. Conquering the heavens with golden wings, he flies with the freedom of a bird. Finding the truth is essential. An untimely death inevitable. His blood will spill, staining drapes of white, keeping him from seeing a vision only meant for him. A vision of hope and prosperity cascaded along mountains and trees. In death, he will be surrounded by grey skies and the people who adored him." _

"_It is clear I have to guide this man. His power to touch the clouds unexplainably, but this power alone will not save him. The dreams are so vivid, I have been able to construct a hollow container specific to his form. He must find this container, lay himself inside to find the truth in which he seeks. I only pray he will see the signs that I give him. If not, he will die not knowing the answers to the questions that plague him." _

Mac literally spent hours pouring over the words before her. Half of the pages were copies of some ancient script she had never seen before. The second half were rough translations. Every word described a man who was oddly familiar, but a man who was still a stranger in her own mind. What was even more peculiar were these disquieted feelings she experienced while reading. Something told her that she was one of "the people who adored him." How this was possible was beyond her. She was still unsure of who the man was. Why did she sense this profound link to him?

She didn't have a clue of what any of it meant, but deep down she knew it was important to Harm. There was one other thing she noticed. Throughout the translations, Harm had scribbled a name in the margins: Rambaldi.

"M-Mac?"

Her eyes darted up as she watched Harm shift his weight seemingly uncomfortable from lying on the couch. She smiled, knowing she had made that mistake earlier in the evening. Her couch was definitely not a suitable replacement for a bed. She rose from her seat and crouched down next to the sofa to meet his now open eyes. "Hey."

"Hey," he murmured, rubbing his eyes and then scratching his arm where the bandage lay.

Mac noticed how much more relaxed he was. His movements less fidgety and the twang in his voice nonexistent. Her voice was hopeful when she asked, "How are you feeling?"

"Better. Stable," he chuckled. He sat up, groaning the whole time he did so. Once he was completely upright, Mac took a seat next to him. She was hovering a bit, watching him closely and he had to laugh, "I'm fine, Mac."

"I wish I could believe you," Mac told him, obviously distressed. "You weren't yourself when you first got here."

"I can't even remember _how_ I got here," Harm mumbled, rubbing his head again. "I just remember everything moving really fast." He rubbed his arm again, then stared at the bandage. He pulled it away to reveal a puncture mark. His eyes lit up as if he finally understood. "I reacted to the serum. Well, more like overreacted."

"You're still not making any sense," Mac sighed, clearly bewildered.

"Oh God, Mac. Right. I should start from the beginning."

"That would help," she said jokingly, trying to smile at him as genuinely as possible.

He gave her a taut smile in return, then paused trying to figure out the best place to begin this tale. He took a deep breath and launched his story, "After a little 'persuasion' on my part, Allison Krennick finally revealed why she kidnapped me. It involved my father and this 15th century philosopher named Milo Rambaldi. At first, I knew I had no reason to trust her, but. . . but there was something about the way she spoke of this Rambaldi. It was like he was the center of her universe. Nothing else mattered.

The Seven posed as a non-profit organization, but in reality they were all Followers of Rambaldi. They made their own little cult which naturally pissed off other Followers around the world. It wasn't unusual for people to do what Allison did, but it was still frowned upon. Many different networks within the Rambaldi cult tried to shut down The Seven. That was how they appeared on the CIA radar. Fights broke out. Many of them turned deadly. Car bombs used as attempts at assassination on both sides were all very public and were all very costly. Allison realized that the ever growing violence between The Seven, the other Followers and the CIA would result in the disbandment of her group. So she purposely sent the other members away. Things had to cool down before The Seven could resume their work researching Milo Rambaldi's work.

In their absence, she took some bold moves. She talked to various terrorist organizations, all of whom were Followers of Rambaldi. She explained that The Seven no longer existed and that she wanted back into the original cult. It was all a lie. She made quick friends and once she made her way up the food chain, she killed the ones that helped her get there. Word got out that Allison Krennick shouldn't be messed with and her reputation was formed. The Seven were suddenly back in business, except she was the only member who was technically active."

Harm paused, wanting some more water to drink. Mac was prompt in fulfilling his request. Once she returned to his side, she immediately asked, "I still don't know what this has to do with you or your father."

Harm smiled, "I'm getting there. Those papers I gave you. They are copies of Milo Rambaldi's personal journal. In his early years, Chris Locke fabricated intelligence about terrorists so he could search for artifacts. Most of these missions entailed a team flying him in country then dropping him off. He would be alone to do whatever he pleased. On one such excursion, he found the journal. The words meant nothing to him, but when he showed Allison, she found a new purpose. She knew who the man was being described in the journal."

"You?" Mac guessed.

"Yep. She thought Rambaldi was describing me," Harm chuckled uneasily. "Only she wasn't completely sure. Rambaldi described a man who was my exact height and weight. The same color eyes and hair, but something was off. The dream also portrayed my death. It said something like. . .'his blood would spill before he saw a vision cascaded along mountains and grey skies'. He would also be surrounded by the people who adored him. As far as she knew, I was still alive, but she had a theory. So she hatched a plan with the one and only Mark Falcon to test it."

"Falcon?" Mac repeated, retrieving the piece of copy paper she found in Harm's pocket. "He's listed here."

"He's one of The Seven," Harm confirmed. "That whole thing with the ship. Finding that notebook of POW soldiers with my father's name on the list. You remember the whole thing. Allison and Mark had a feeling I would find it and they tricked us in order to get it. Only they were no closer to finding my father then we were."

"So Russia was a set up too," Mac revealed, sitting back down on the couch. She rubbed her forehead as she remembered, "I mean, we already knew it was a set-up but we were focusing on all the wrong reasons."

"Exactly," Harm agreed, now seemingly more excited about telling the rest of his story. "Allison was convinced Rambaldi was describing my father and not me. That he had died in the mountains of Russia, most likely under grey skies. He was surrounded by the people who adored him."

"Sergei and his mother," Mac filled in.

"Mmhmm," Harm nodded. "She told me all about this, but I was skeptical. I knew my father and I had different blood types. The blood type in the journal was my dad's, not mine. How could I fulfill a prophecy that was meant for my father? How could he fulfill a prophecy he had no idea existed? She told me, while his death was a tragic accident, she firmly believed my dad remained in Russia to fulfill Rambaldi's dream. To find that container and to see that vision."

"Wait, wait. How would your father even know about Rambaldi in the first place?" Mac shook her head. She was letting Harm tell the story, but was finding it all hard to believe. She didn't want to disappoint him by arguing, but too many things still didn't make sense. Then again, she had never been a strong believer in the supernatural.

"Remember Admiral Boone?" Harm asked, a small mischievous smile formed.

"Yeah. He's retried now, right?"

"Not exactly. His real name is Director Kendall and he's CIA," Harm revealed, much to Mac's surprise. "I know this is a lot to take in, Mac. Trust me. I've tried to convince myself that this is all some big hoax, but everything checks out."

Mac's mouth hung open for a second. After a few moments of trying to collect herself, she sputtered, "You do realize what you just told me? That Admiral Boone, the same man who flew with your father and claimed to be a loyal friend. He knowingly put your father in danger and acknowledged that your father was at the center of some prophecy?"

"I know what it sounds like, Mac, but trust me. . .Kendall was not my father's friend," Harm said gravely. "He used him and he used me. The CIA were the first to discover Rambaldi (and they did a good job of keeping it a secret until recently). They had found some pages of his great book. In that book were hundreds upon hundreds of prophecies. Some that have come true and some that have not. The prediction about my father was also in there. The CIA believed that if they kept tabs on my father, they would ultimately follow him to the one thing they had been searching for: the vision of hope and prosperity. Only, my father went down fighting and was never found. The dream about seeing that vision vanished along with him. Kendall kept his alias as Boone so that he could one day talk to me. Somewhere in his dark soul, he felt guilt and regret for what happened to my dad. Once he felt he told me all that he could, he "retired" from the Navy."

"Okay, um, you said something about blood types?" Mac questioned, still soaking in the information about Boone.

"Right. That was what the serum was," Harm sighed, then rubbed his arm. "It's a chemical agent meant to fool blood tests. For instance, my blood type is A positive. The serum masks that and tricks any test into thinking I'm AB positive. The same as my father's."

"Judging by your entrance, there are side effects?" Mac asked quietly. She knew that Harm wouldn't willingly jab himself and shoot an unknown agent into his arm, but the fact that it was still in his system worried her.

"Unfortunately," Harm rolled his eyes, continuing to rub the spot on his arm. "It was administered in three stages. After every injection, I became loopy. Krennick told me it hadn't been perfected yet, but she didn't hesitate to test it on me. I experienced delusions and time lapses. It was hard to determine whether or not everything that happened was really a dream or not."

"I'm not sure I like that."

"It's not toxic, Mac. I won't die."

"Says who?"

"Says me."

"Okay, let's _say_ I believe everything you just told me," Mac smiled slightly. "How does Allison Krennick fit into all of this? This is about your father, not her."

"You're right and she doesn't," Harm said flatly.

"I'm not following," Mac stared at him confused.

"I said she doesn't fit into any of this at all," Harm repeated in frustration. "That's what is so damn crazy about the whole thing! Krennick has become so disillusioned by Rambaldi's work that she believes it's her destiny to help me fulfill the prophecy, despite the fact that her name never comes up in any of the writings! She connected herself to this prophecy because our lives crossed paths."

"Her reasoning isn't completely half-baked, I guess," Mac shrugged. "She must believe you came into her life for a reason. She just picked the wrong reason."

"Well, she thinks it's the right reason," Harm said, leaning back into the couch. "She's willing to do anything to accomplish it. That's why I had to get away."

Mac frowned as one last pressing question came to her. Harm said after every injection, he became loopy and disoriented. In fact, he couldn't even remember how he got here. She turned to Harm and asked thoughtfully, "Harm? How did you get away?"

"Hmm?" he mumbled, turning to face her.

"How did you get away? When you arrived, you were still disoriented from the injection," Mac elaborated. "How did you get away?"

He paused before yawning, "You know? I'm beat. I've talked your ear off for the last half hour and I'm sure you want to rest. We'll finish this tomorrow?"

His request seemed a little off. A typical Harmon Rabb, Jr. evasion tactic. However, Mac couldn't deny her weariness either. She decided that no matter how he escaped, that he was here and he was safe. She could wait one more day to hear the rest of his tale and when that was over, it was time to jump back onto the road of recovery. They both needed some time for themselves. Time to figure out where to go from here.

She rose from the couch to retrieve some sheets so he could have some cover for the night. Before she could open the linen closet to grab them, Harm suddenly appeared next to her. She nearly jumped out of her skin, not expecting him so close, so fast.

"I'm sorry," he quickly apologized.

"It's fine," she laughed lightly, then noticed the dark look in his eyes. "Harm?"

"We have to find that container, Mac," Harm told her grimly. "The container that fits my body, I mean, my father's body exactly."

"Harm, what are you talking about?" she tried to laugh it off again, rubbing his shoulder in reassurance. As added emphasis, she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him in for a warm embrace. "You're home now. It's over. You don't have to worry about some cockamamie scheme involving some crazy lunatic from the 15th century."

While Harm returned the hug, he spoke in her ear with incredible seriousness, "He's no lunatic, Mac. I've read the prophecy. His dream is too exact not to be true. He's predicted other events. He's invented devices that resemble high-tech equipment of today! It has to be true."

She pulled back slightly, her hands remained rested on his shoulders. She gave him an incredulous stare, "You're not telling me you believe all of that? Harm, I've known you for quite some time now. I know what happens when you start to obsess over things, but I thought your father's death was behind you."

"So did I," Harm swallowed hard, his eyes radiating with intensity and determination. "But I was wrong about everything. I knew how he died, but I never understood why. Now I know and I want to finish what he started. I have to."

"No you don't!" Mac almost shouted. Her reaction was more out of fear, than out of anger. "You always think you have to do these things, but you don't! You've been gone for almost two months! Do you know what that has done to me? To everyone who misses you?"

"Mac. ..," Harm tried to cut in, the regret washing over his face immediately.

"For once, let me finish," Mac pleaded and he complied to her request. "You told me there was danger in your apartment that day and I didn't listen to you. Krennick kidnapped you right from under my nose and I've felt nothing but guilt for not saving you. Now that you're back, I can't let you run off again. I won't. . ."

Mac cut her rampage short, finding it hard to look him in the eyes any longer. Harm stepped back, letting her hands fall to her sides. He breathed in deeply, trying to regain control of this conversation. Her points were valid, but his decision was final. He was going to search for the vision Rambaldi spoke of, but something told him that was not what was bothering Mac the most. He spoke calmly as he remarked, "I get the feeling there's more you want to tell me."

Mac smiled sadly, hugging herself now as she leaned against the closet door. "What makes you so sure I have anything more to say?"

"Because I know you," Harm stated confidently.

"Not well enough," she retorted rather coldly. "Because if you knew me, you would understand why I don't want you to do this."

"And if you knew me, you would understand why I have to go," Harm countered, keeping his voice remarkably calm and collected. "I need your help. I can't do this alone."

That fiery determination to fight him on this until the end of time was there, but she let it subside. With great pain, she handed him the sheets and he smiled, "Does this mean you're not kicking me out?"

"I had no intention of kicking you out," Mac sighed, patting the pile of sheets in his hands. She held up one finger and told him, " I only do this on one condition."

Harm narrowed his eyes in suspicion and asked cautiously, "What's that?"

"I call Clay and tell him what's going on," she said simply.

"No, Mac. I don't want to involve him," Harm immediately objected.

"Harm, Paraguay is over. It happened. Move on," Mac warned. She could see the jealously flare up at the mention of Clay's name. She could see the utter hatred that Harm had formed over the last year. How could he forget the good that Clay had done in the past? Sure, his ways of operating were unorthodox, but he always pulled through when it was necessary. When Harm remained silent, she pressed on, "Clay has been doing all he could to help find _you_. To protect _you_. His team has been working round the clock trying to help _you_."

Harm's gaze met the floor. He didn't want Clay to be involved, but wait. . . having Clay on his side might not be a bad thing. He could use certain resources. At this point, only Clayton Webb could provide them. Now was not the time to get greedy. He would need the "extra" help.

"Make the call," Harm finally said.

"I will," Mac nodded, then folded her arms across her chest. With an exasperated sigh, she asked, "Do you even know where this container thing is located?"

"It's in Russia, but we'll need to go to Iraq first," Harm smiled, then immediately hugged her. He thanked her,"You won't regret this, Mac. I promise."

"I better not, Flyboy," she murmured into his shirt, hugging him tighter. She let him go and said, "I'll have to get you a towel and washrag so you can clean up. I'll be right back."

"Okay," Harm continued to smile, until Mac disappeared into her bedroom.

His face fell into one of darkness, staring at the empty doorway. He figured it would take some convincing. Maybe a few overly affectionate words, but she succumbed much faster than he had anticipated. Her loyalty to him was astounding, to say the least.

They could start the Rambaldi journey together and then she would realize just how awesome he had become. He would see that vision and be with the perfect woman in the end. He really couldn't have asked for anything better than this.

Harm's smile returned, only this time it was elfish and mischievous. He muttered aloud in an ominous tone, "No, Sarah Mackenzie. You won't regret this at all."

To be continued. . .


	27. Back To Iraq

Disclaimer: not mine

Previously: Harm suddenly appears at Mac's apartment with an amazing account of his time with Krennick. He also brings with him a firm belief in a prophecy to which he convinces Mac to help him fulfill. Mac only agrees on one condition: Clayton Webb gets to tag along.

Author's Notes: Apologies for the infrequent posting. My goal was to finish this off before 2007, seeing how I've been writing this for nearly two years now. I hope to keep to that goal. I thank you all for your reviews and patience. Next, I've probably used the C-130 aircraft wrong in this chapter. Ignore my ignorance. I used creative license here. Any dialogue in _Italics_ reflects a person speaking over a radio frequency or what we called 'walkie-talkies' as kids. ;)

**The Seven**

by e-dog

Chapter Twenty Seven

"Back to Iraq"

**May 10, 2004**

**JAG Headquarters**

**Falls Church, Virginia**

Commander Sturgis Turner stood quietly in Mac's office doorway. She was busy gathering up her case files and packing up her desk. She had been granted a week's leave claiming she needed the time off to clear her head. Both Admiral Chegwidden and the entire bullpen knew that excuse was a bunch of crap. Sarah Mackenzie rarely took vacations unless she was ordered to. If she needed a vacation, there was an ulterior motive behind it and it had nothing to do with relaxation. Despite that, AJ couldn't find any reason to make her stay. She had plenty of leave on the books and he couldn't say no. He merely warned her to be careful. They had already lost one good officer.

Sturgis waited patiently, then stepped inside the office as she handed him the cases. He flipped through them and smiled, "Well, this will keep me busy."

"I'm sorry, Sturgis," Mac said sympathetically . "I didn't plan this. I could give some to Bud, if you like."

"No, I understand. We could all use some time off. The Tiner case has us all feeling uneasy," Sturgis forced another smile. He held the cases as he stared at the floor. "I know I could've won."

"It was his decision. We did all we could," Mac replied, clearly occupied with getting all of her things in order. Her working space had never been a contender for Most Organized Office At JAG. As she continued to prepare for her departure, she could feel the cold stare that Sturgis was giving her. He knew she was keeping him out of the loop. He knew she had information on Harm, only she wasn't spilling. The silence was too much and finally he broke it.

"If Harm asked you to jump off a bridge, would you do it?" Sturgis asked out of nowhere. His question caused her to stop what she was doing immediately. How did he always pick up on these things so quickly? Or maybe she was being that obvious.

Sturgis watched her hands slowly retreat from the mess on her desk and take refuge near her stomach. She twiddled her thumbs trying to ignore him, so he repeated, "If Harmon Rabb walked through that door right now and asked you to jump, would you?"

"This has nothing to do with Harm, Sturgis," Mac objected with as much fervor as possible.

"This has everything to do with him!" Sturgis nearly shouted, his eyes lighting up like beacons. However, he composed himself quickly. He was never known for losing his temper. He shut her office door and practically ordered, "If he's alive, you tell me. Tell me now, Mac."

"Sturgis. . .," Mac tried to plead.

"No, Mac. He's my best friend," Sturgis reasoned, stepping forward. "I have to know."

A rude cough from the doorway effectively ended the argument. Sturgis turned around to find Clayton Webb standing there, his gaze giving him a warning. It was time to stop pushing for any more answers. Sturgis gripped his new assignments with frustration as he returned his unsatisfied glare to Mac. She mouthed she was sorry, but that didn't cease the frigid vibes she felt waving off of him. He turned on his heel abruptly and pushed past Clay nearly knocking the agent over. Mac finished up clearing her desk and stated solemnly, "He has a right to know."

Clay shut the office door and corrected, "He doesn't have a _need_ to know. Those are the rules, Sarah."

Mac sighed and tried to forget the incident with Sturgis for now. Clay was here for one reason, or so she assumed. "I was supposed to meet you at the base. Is something wrong?"

"No, everything is fine. I came to see you," Clay replied, his voice suddenly soft and loving. He was in desperate need of human contact, specifically with her. He hadn't seen her in weeks and their conversation had been kept to a minimum thanks to The Seven. She had been a little stand offish, but he assumed that was because of Harm. Now that he was safe, Clay could focus all of his attention back on her.

He waited on a response. Any response, but he wasn't getting one. He began to wonder if all of his assumptions about their relationship had just been wishful thinking. She had stopped moving, her eyes fixated on the floor. She was clearly conflicted. His heart sank as he realized the inevitable. He walked over, gently cupped her chin and raised her eyes to meet his, "Sarah?"

Words still eluded her, but only one word needed to be said. Clay let her go and muttered,"Harm."

"I'm sorry, Clay," Mac managed to say, the words hanging in the air. Her voice was barely audible as she tried to figure out how to fix this. However, she knew there was nothing she could do but tell the truth. To confess how wrong she had been. At times, this whole situation appalled her. When she woke up in the morning and looked into the mirror, she didn't recognize herself most days. That had to change. Their attraction to one another formed under unusual circumstances and yet she went along with it anyway. She couldn't keep doing this to him. As calmly as possible, she gave the same reasoning she had been using for years. The same lame, old excuses she always used on Harm. "You were there. You wanted me and told me that you wanted me. . ."

"And now he wants you?" Clay finished for her. "Did he tell you that he wants you? Is that it?" She tried to object, but he rose up his hand to quiet her. He shrugged and remarked coldly, "I knew what I was getting into. Shoulda saw this coming."

"Did you know?" Mac asked more strongly, feeling guilt on her part for leading him on. Feeling angry at him for thinking the demise of their relationship was all her fault. "I thought I knew. I didn't anticipate waking up alone in the morning. Or the expensive five minute international calls from God knows where."

"And I regret all of that, but it was the job," Clay defended himself, his frustration showing more with each second. His voice was ragged, "I thought I could juggle both you and the job because I thought you would understand. You were the only one who knew what it was like."

"I thought you knew what I needed," Mac countered painfully, now hugging herself. "We both assumed wrong."

"So, that's it?" Clay asked bleakly, letting his hands fall to his side in defeat. Mac could only nod yes. He stared at the floor, a wave of determination suddenly inspiring him. "Okay, Sarah. For now, it's over. But I'm not giving up on you. I'm not giving up on us."

Mac could punch Clay for being so stubborn. Couldn't he see what an ass she had been for the last few months? She was only beginning to admit that to herself now, even though she had known for quite some time her actions were wrong. As much as this conversation needed to continue, her internal clock told her it was time to go. She picked up her purse and cover and walked past him. She reached to open the door, but paused. She looked over her shoulder to look at him and commented, "This is a really lousy way to start a mission, Clay."

She left promptly, leaving him standing there to ponder what just happened. A sly grin spread across his face as he mumbled under his breath, "I've always liked a challenge."

**May 10, 2004**

**Somewhere in the skies above Iraq**

The C-130 engine hummed through the night sky with its best pilot at the helm: Beth O'Neill. Her reuniting with Harm was filled with surprise, relief and confusion. While Mac had been at JAG wrapping up her cases and sealing her request for leave, Harm had been sharing some iced tea with his former partner. They discussed the last couple months of his life and the craziness that went with it. They discussed Mark and Andy and shed a few tears. They discussed Attewater, Colbert and Locke, the rest of the team who never made it back. More tears. They had been told Locke killed himself, which neither one believed. The man had too much ego to do that to himself. The apparent demise of the other two men was still a mystery.

Harm and Beth were the only two people left from that team who set out to Iraq back in October of 2003. Now they were heading back to Iraq under Harm's direction. He knew where they were going. He knew what they had to find.

Harm held the controls while Beth checked other readings. He took a moment to look toward the back of the plane to spy his new team. Sydney, Vaughn, Victor and Mac. Surprisingly, Clay had been permitted to go against Harm's wishes. He was dressed in all black, just like everyone else. His parachute gear was hanging funnily from his shoulders. Harm could only smile as he thought back on his early encounters with the former Under Secretary. The man who pretended that he couldn't handle a gun. The pain in the ass who couldn't seem to figure out the difference between black or white.

For a brief moment, Clay was a mirror image of that man from ten years ago. Fiddling with his jacket, trying to figure what every mechanism did and how it worked. Finally, Sydney took the initiative to explain to him one last time where the rip cord was located. Mac even added sarcastically, "You'll need to pull that so you don't die." There seemed to be some tension between the two. One could only hope it wouldn't jeopardize their task.

Harm returned his focus to flying. The mission was simple. Sadik Fahd owned various houses in various countries. That was no secret. Under a different alias, he purchased land and built an estate that rivaled even the richest Iraqi leaders. While there was no proof, it was rumored he had ties with the local government and that allowed him the freedom he had acquired. Even with the war in Iraq, Sadik's men managed to ward off any opposition from US forces. Until now.

Judging by satellite images, the mansion was definitely out of place with its grandeur and sophisticated style as it rested in the barren sand dunes of Iraq. Beth was going to fly them over and they were going to drop just outside the grounds.

While Sadik had been killed, his followers still pressed on trying to carry out his wishes. The place would be heavily guarded with guns and vicious brainwashed men. Men who undoubtedly knew of Rambaldi. All of this risk for something so small. The key recovered from Dozier's body was already confirmed to be a copy. After listening to Krennick for the past two weeks, Harm soon realized that Sadik had the original key. When Mac shot Sadik, the location of the key died with him. It was no wonder Palmer had been so bitter about Sadik's death. It was no wonder Krennick had been watching Mac and wanted her dead. Sadik was one of The Seven. Krennick was out for revenge.

Krennick had searched every single place in the world for Sadik's key. Every place but here. Back in October, when Andy tripped that landmine, it set a new chain of events in motion. Krennick had a new idea on how to approach the Rambaldi prophecy. Now this key was the last piece.

"Marshall says the key unlocks a laptop," Sydney told Harm over his shoulder. Harm rose from his seat and motioned for the other pilot to take his place back next to Beth. It felt good to fly again, but they were almost over the target. It was time to suit up. He followed Sydney back further into the plane as she continued to speak, "He says there's only one reason Dozier would make two keys. To have double insurance that no one gets inside that laptop."

"So, once we have both keys, we find Dozier's laptop?" Harm asked. He pulled a vest on and zipped it up.

"That's already taken care of," Clay told them from his huddled position on the floor. He looked amazingly pathetic, even for him. "We had agents scour every piece of Dozier's home. They found the laptop. Jack will meet us in Turkey once we acquire the key."

"Mind telling me again why we're risking our lives for this key?" Mac said, clearly still having doubts about fulfilling this mission. It would take some more time to convince her of the wonders of Rambaldi, Harm supposed.

"It has the location of an artifact, ma'am," Victor explained.

"No," Harm said grimly. "It's not just any artifact."

"Then what is it?" Vaughn asked, speaking up for the first time.

"It's the cornerstone for all of this," Harm explained, his eyes darkening with every word. Mac had noticed it the night he arrived at her place. Talking about Rambaldi seemed to have this effect on him that frightened her. She didn't say anything about her fears, but she believed that Harm had become too engrossed in Rambaldi. It wasn't just about his father anymore. Krennick had somehow turned Harm into a believer.

However, Mac was the only one here who could see it. Sydney, whom she had spoken to briefly, didn't know Harm well enough to see any change in his demeanor. Clay, who knew Harm just as well as she did, seemed oblivious to everything. Vaughn would have no clue and Victor wasn't making any strides to stop this crazy mission either. Unfortunately, she just had to go with the flow and hope they made it out alive.

"What do you mean, 'the cornerstone'?" Sydney asked.

"When we go to Russia, you'll understand," was Harm's reply. He left it at that as he fastened the last strap on his parachute. If Mac had been in her right mind, she would've stopped this before any of it began. Sturgis was right. She seemed to be completely gullible when Harm was the one asking for help. She prayed that this time she was doing the right thing in following him.

"ETA in 2 minutes," Beth called from the front.

"Are you ready?" Mac asked Clay, pulling a mask down over her face.

He did the same before replying with a weak, "I think so."

Harm approached her and smiled warmly. It was magnetic; a smile she could never say no to.

"This seems ironic," Mac laughed.

"Why?"

"You're asking me to jump," Mac shook her head, a hint of smile on her face.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Harm asked bemused.

"Ask Sturgis when we get back," was her last remark, leaving Harm with a slightly bewildered expression on his face.

A door opened, air whooshing in forcefully. Vaughn and Sydney were the leading jumpers, then Victor and Clay. Harm and Mac were last. They stood in line. Harm grabbed Mac's hand and squeezed tightly. Usually, his acts of reassurance made her feel safe, but tonight she couldn't shake the feeling they were walking into a death trap. She nodded towards him instead, signaling she was ready. The last time Mac had jumped out of a plane, Harm had crashed a MIG in the hilltops of the Russian countryside. Unfortunately, this kind of jump wasn't the same thing. Sydney had shown her a crash course on what to do back in Washington and it didn't seem too difficult. Besides, she was a Marine. She was made for this kind of exhilaration.

"Get ready in three. . .two. . .one! Go! Go!" Beth shouted to them.

Vaughn and Sydney went, immediately followed by Victor and Clay. Last, Harm and Mac jumped down toward Iraqi soil. The huge goggles on Mac's face seemed to tighten as the cold air swirled around her. A brief glance to her left revealed Harm. His arms outstretched and his body relaxed. He seemed to be enjoying this fall, while her stomach was turning in knots. Her internal clock signaled it was time and she pulled the rip cord. It was almost in unison as the other five jumpers did the same. They floated down to the earth in the cover of night. They all touched down safely. The more inexperienced jumpers tumbled in the sand, but no one was hurt. Clay took the longest to recover.

The best part about the whole drop: no one at Sadik's compound had detected them. It was time for Phase Two of the plan.

------------------------

They only discarded the parachutes as they made their way towards the compound. Even though Harm would've liked to run the show, Sydney had done this more times than he had. She was giving the signals on when to move and when to take cover. The house was surrounded by a fence with a gate. Sydney listened to Marshall in her ear as he relayed all the pertinent information, "_Infrared is only detecting two people at the gate._"

Sydney held up two fingers at Mac. Mac nodded. She had already seen them. She held up her rifle and peered through the scoop. One. Two.

Two darts whizzed through the air hitting their targets perfectly. It had already been established she was the better marksman of the group and she nearly smiled at her own accuracy. The two guards grabbed their necks, but the tranquilizers had already done their job. They hit the dirt as the six person team approached quietly. Luckily for them, this complex wasn't built with hi-tech security equipment. There were only two cameras and with an electro-static gun, Sydney aimed and fired. The cameras fizzled out giving them free rein of the front yard. The gate opened with a small creak, but nothing loud enough to be heard. They all crept in, low to the ground. Rifles ready to fire.

Victor signaled he was going around back. Clay followed. Harm and Mac were to enter through the side door. Vaughn and Sydney through the front door. The idea was to secure the house, while Harm and Mac retrieved the key from Sadik's office.

"Marshall, anyone on the west side?" Harm asked into his two-way.

"_I only have two showing up on the satellite feed_," Marshall confirmed. "_About 20 feet ahead of you._"

"There's two," Harm relayed to Mac, who was right behind him. Suddenly shots were heard from the other side of the house. Men were shouting vehemently in Farsi. Mac could only make out the word "intruder". Harm pulled Mac down to the ground and whispered, "Stay down."

"That was Clay and Victor," Mac hissed worriedly, listening to the cracking sound boom overhead. Then her eyes widened as she stared straight ahead, "They spotted us."

Harm turned to see the two guards charging them. He grimaced, "So much for stealth and secrecy."

They both rose from the ground and fired with deadly precision. The two guards fell instantly. Mac and Harm reached the side door. Harm looked at her and said, "This is the closest entrance to Sadik's office."

"I'm going to back up Clay and Victor," Mac told him.

"Mac, don't. . .," Harm objected.

"We don't have time to argue. I'm going."

"Be careful."

"You too," she replied and hastily made her way around back. Harm watched until she disappeared into the darkness and then dashed inside.

------------------------

The moment Mac rounded the corner, she had to fire. The guards were more plentiful around here and they yelled with ferocity at their unexpected visitors. Victor was discharging bullets as well, knocking down three more of Sadik's men. Mac ducked down behind a barrel, only to discover it was filled with gasoline. She quickly scampered away as the guards continued to fire. The barrel exploded, blasting Mac away from its fiery destruction. Victor took cover near the house, but had to continue his barrage of bullets in order to stay alive. He wanted to tell them to stop firing, but he knew they wouldn't listen. It was never said any of these men were smart. Victor took cover again, then heard Sydney's voice in his ear, "_We heard an explosion. What the hell is going on?_"

"Gasoline barrel was hit. I've lost sight of Clay," Victor reported, then fired again.

"_There's no one inside. We're heading towards the office now_," Sydney confirmed on her side.

Mac tried to recover quickly from the blast, but was met head to head with one of the guards. He slapped her, sending her to the ground and causing her to lose her weapon. She looked up only to be face to face with the barrel of his gun. She closed her eyes as she heard more gunfire. She grunted when the body of the guard landed on top of her. She was surprised to see Harm run up and pull the dead man off of her.

"I thought you were inside," Mac said, letting Harm help her up.

"And what? Miss all the fun?" Harm jested.

"He was the last one," Victor reported as he walked over. "It's safe."

Well, it was safe for now. They had just initiated an impromptu bon fire. Surely, the smoke would be seen in a manner of minutes. Mac retrieved her gun from the ground, then danced around in a slight panic. The adrenaline in her body fueling her anxiety as she asked, "Where's Clay?"

"Over here," Clay muttered from the ground, near the house. He had torn off his mask at this point, breathing deeply. The smoke causing him to cough. He watched his three teammates rush over as he lay there, trying to catch his breath. He waited for Mac to give him the verdict as she ripped open his vest. He looked down at himself and asked, "Well? Am I going to die?"

Mac gave him a relieved smile, "The vest protected you. You're fine."

"I don't feel fine," Clay complained, as Victor pulled him to his feet. "I feel like I got hit by a bus."

"The force just knocked the wind out of you, sir," Victor explained. "You were shot at close range."

With Clay seemingly okay, Harm was all business again. He ordered, "Let's get that key and get the hell out of here."

"_Uh, well. . .You better make that quick_," Marshall relayed to them in a panicky voice. "_I see more hot spots coming towards the compound. They're coming fast. Really fast_."

To be continued. . .


	28. I Know What I'm Doing

Disclaimer: not mine

Previously: Mac takes a "vacation" in response to Harm's plea for her to help him. Now working with Harm and APO, she agrees to join them on a mission to Iraq to retrieve a key from Sadik Fahd's compound. Only after taking on enemy fire does she begin to question whether the prize is worth the risk. . .

**The Seven**

by e-dog

Chapter Twenty Eight

"I Know What I'm Doing"

**May 10, 2004**

**Sadik's Compound**

**Iraq**

Harm dashed inside without waiting on a decision from the others. He wanted to see for himself that the key was secure. Mac could only watch him disappear in disgust. Was his drive to retrieve that artifact greater than protecting himself or anyone else for that matter? If they got out of this alive, she was going to voice her concerns. One of them had to step up and bring about some sense of reason!

Victor handed Clay his rifle, then reloaded the clip on his. Mac did the same for her weapon, then retrieved Clay's mask. "Put that back on."

Just as Clay pulled the charred mask down over his head, two ATV's came roaring around the west side of the compound. Clay commented in disbelief, "They just keep multiplying!"

Victor groaned with incredulity as well, "This is starting to get messy."

"Get inside," Mac ordered, as she pulled on a reluctant Clay. "We can't take them like this. They have the high ground sitting in those vehicles."

Mac's logic was undeniable and they did as they were told. There were about four men in each vehicle. They were clearly outnumbered. At first, Sadik's men were in awe of the destruction the fire had caused and the bodies of their comrades on the ground. Then they spotted the three intruders dashing inside. Gunfire was imminent.

The three of them had taken position behind walls and in doorways. Once they were secure, Mac glanced at Victor. Their eyes exchanged some kind of understanding that Clay couldn't decipher. Mac just held her hand to Clay's chest to keep him back against the wall, as she nodded towards Victor to confirm whatever they had just agreed upon. Victor reached into the breast pocket of his vest, revealing a grenade. He peered around the corner of his hiding place, seeing dark figures through the windows. He waited patiently. The door was kicked open and Victor set the device and tossed it out the door. He yelled, "Take cover!"

Mac yanked Clay to ground, just as the explosion blasted the back of the house. There were shouts of anguish and pain obviously indicating they got someone. Naturally, they didn't want to stick around to see who was left. They rushed to the front of the house, racing down a narrow hallway then bursting out into an open foyer with a staircase. All in the defensive mode, they immediately aimed their guns up that staircase after hearing footsteps. It was only the rest of the team: Harm, Vaughn and Sydney. Sydney stated, "We got it."

Vaughn then ordered, "We gotta head north to the rendevous point."

Victor smiled, "I think I know how we can get there fast."

------------------------------

With the stolen ATVs, they raced across the desert. Vaughn, Sydney and Clay in the first. Harm, Mac and Victor in the second. In the distance were the sights and sounds of their debacle of a mission. Surely the superiors of all participants involved wouldn't be pleased to know they had caused that much of a disturbance in a land where controversy already thrived. It wouldn't surprise them if their "top secret mission" ended up another horror story from Iraq. They could see the headlines already. "A US forces raid gone wrong where innocent Iraqis were killed". ZNN would have a field day.

There was little talking during the bumpy ride and it wasn't too long before they felt the wind of helicopter propellers. They skidded on the sand to a stop, jumped out and then boarded the aircraft. Harm was the last to slide in when the pilot rose them from the ground and away from Sadik's lair. Mission accomplished.

Mac leaned against the side wall, exhausted. She glanced over to Harm who was ripping off excess clothing and trying to catch his breath. He caught Mac's concerned stare, then smiled and winked as if everything that just happened was the best thrill ride of his life. Mac rolled her eyes.

For a long time, all they could hear were the propellers echoing off the midnight sky. They were all covered in sand and debris making for quite an uncomfortable trip, but spirits were on the rise considering they survived. They retrieved the key. After riding for what felt like hours, Sydney finally leaned toward Harm and pulled the box from out of her pocket. He stared at it expectantly, but she never handed it to him. Instead she smiled, "Now we meet up with my father in Turkey. He has the laptop there."

Clay remained quiet. Vaughn closed his eyes in an attempt to nap. Victor's eyes were glazed over as he watched both Harm and Sydney talk. Mac could only think once more how they encountered all that danger for something so small.

------------------------------

**Sadik's Compound**

**Iraq**

Ari Haswari roared up to Sadik's complex in his vehicle, then paused at the gate. Two men were slowly getting up, trying to regain their balance and their wits. The next thing he noticed was the smell. He viewed the fire with curiosity. It was quite a sight to behold. Ari jumped out of his vehicle and asked in their native tongue, "What happened here?"

The two guards rubbed their necks where tranquilizer darts had previously made their home and turned around to smell the smoke and to see the flames. Their bewildered expressions said it all. They didn't see anything that had happened. They were waking up into a bad nightmare. Their brains kicked in and they pointed their weapons at Ari. They demanded to know who he was.

"I'm a friend of Sadik's."

He proceeded to show them his hand and they spied a small tattoo. The symbol of Rambaldi. They immediately let Ari pass. Ari walked onto the grounds, his weapon drawn even though he had a good feeling Harm and his friends were long gone. In the back, about five men were putting out flames and tending to the injured. They told him that a group of Americans had invaded and caused the fire. There were very few survivors.

"Did they steal anything?"

Yes. Something from the safe. Ari rubbed the back of his head, then reluctantly pulled out his cell phone. He waited for a few rings then spoke, "Our guy is moving faster than we anticipated. He's trying to stay one step ahead of us."

Krennick was on the other end, her sigh indicating her disappointment. After a long pause, she replied optimistically, "All is not lost, Ari. Harm got what he wanted, but we know where he's heading next. I think we should round up a welcome party and meet him there."

"Understood," Ari smiled, then terminated the call.

**May 11, 2004**

**Istanbul, Turkey**

**Local Hotel**

They were flown to Istanbul, where Jack had already set up refuge in a hotel. Everyone cleaned up and changed into more comfortable attire. Food and refreshments had been provided and once stomachs were full, the crazy notion of completing this mission was back in full motion.

Mac stared out the window at the modern city, the coastline in plain view. She was gazing at the Marmara Sea, its blue water looked refreshing, although she was sure looks could be deceiving. It was a known fact that the drinking water here was the equivalent to consuming motor oil. Surely, Mac didn't want to test that theory.

The city was old, there was no questioning that. Its buildings clearly a clue to its ancient past. It was a shame they didn't have time to drink in the richness of this place.

Jack Bristow revealed Dozier's laptop. Both he and Harm sat on the bed, staring at it for a moment. This was it. The rest of them gathered around, Mac the only one watching Harm's reactions with difficulty. He seemed overanxious and that only fueled her ambition to stop this nonsense. Harm was sick, she was sure of it. She wanted to convince Clay that Harm was everything but alright. Only, Clay, Sydney and Vaughn seemed just as interested in Rambaldi and whatever Harm could uncover. She feared voicing her opinion to them would be pointless. She would have to confront Harm on her own.

"We just want to make clear, Mr. Rabb, any artifacts we recover from this point on our government property," Jack informed mostly speaking to Harm, but he was addressing everyone. "Rambaldi, while on the surface is some silly philosopher, holds the key to several technologies that were beyond his time."

"I don't want to study Rambaldi," Harm insisted, although Mac was convinced otherwise. "I just want to know what my father was looking for."

"Fair enough," Jack nodded.

"Ready?" Harm asked, as he held up the two keys.

"Ready," Jack confirmed. Harm handed one of the keys to Jack. At the same time, they inserted the keys into the appropriate keyholes and turned. There was a loud click and the laptop snapped opened. Vaughn immediately went to work. After a few minutes of typing, he announced that nothing was encrypted or password protected. There were two files on the computer and only two files. The system, he concluded, was relatively ancient compared to more modern computers.

The first file, a map. It had landmarks clearly labeled. A definitive line with a starting point and an "X" marking the spot. It was like viewing an ancient pirate treasure map. The second file, the location of Rambaldi's artifact. The cornerstone. Vaughn glanced up and revealed, "We're in luck. The artifact is hidden in Russia. And if I'm reading this correctly. . ."

"Mark Falcon is the guy who's holding it," Harm finished, glancing up at Mac with diffident eyes. It had been a long time since they had been face to face with the KGB agent. It seemed another meeting with Mark was inevitable.

"Judging by your expressions, you are acquainted with Mr. Falcon?" Jack inquired, glancing at both Harm and Mac.

"We've had previous dealings with him, yes," Harm answered begrudgingly.

"I know some guys I can call," Clay piped up, pulling out his cell phone. "It's been a while, but there used to be a certain protocol I would follow in order to contact Falcon."

"Think he'll still respond?" Jack asked.

"He will," Clay promised, as he proceeded to find privacy on the other side of the room. Mac watched as Sydney and Vaughn approached Jack to go over their next operation procedure. Victor remained by her side flashing her a confident smile. Harm stayed on the bed, holding the laptop and studying the map file on the computer. He was so absorbed in what he was viewing, the world around him had vanished. After a few minutes, she couldn't take it anymore and she returned to the window to gaze at the city. Right now, investing herself into studying the activity outside was the only thing keeping her sane.

"Mac?" Victor called softly. He resumed his place beside her, his hands resting behind his back. He followed her stare outside. "Are you alright?"

"This isn't sitting right with me," she confessed, her tone filled with concern. "It's not that I don't trust him, Gunny. It's just. . ."

"He's different?" Victor filled in for her. She nodded. He gave her a helpless expression as he said, "I sense a change too, but everyone else seems okay with this."

"That's the other problem. Everyone is okay with this!" Mac continued to rant in a hushed whisper. "Do you believe any of this? This stuff with Rambaldi?"

"I don't know what to think," Victor shrugged, but his answer was honest. "I just know that Clay and Harm have never steered me wrong before. I trust that whatever we find in Russia is worth all this trouble."

"It better be," Mac sighed, then spotted Clay out of the corner of her eye. He was still gabbing on his phone. He had been keeping his distance from her, which she had greatly appreciated. Usually Clay had this uncanny ability to throw their strange relationship in her face at the most inopportune moments. Now he seemed to be concentrating solely on this mission and that was fine with her.

"Hey. Ninja Girl, I'm talking to you."

Mac turned around at the sound of the old moniker and smiled. It had been years since he had used that silly nickname and for some strange reason that unsettled her. The way he said it. . .the words weren't smooth or comfortable. Before she could dwell on it any further, Harm chuckled and said, "I've been calling your name for five minutes. Where were you?"

"I was just thinking," she said. "What's up?"

"I just wanted to say thanks for coming with me," Harm told her. "You could've stayed behind, especially after Sydney and the team decided to help me."

"And what? Miss all the fun?" Mac said cheekily, repeating his words from earlier.

Harm smiled a wide toothy smile, then glanced out the window. His face took on a rather thoughtful expression as he told her, "I know what I'm doing."

Her face fell back into that concerned expression and she asked meekly, "Do you?"

"I'm going to finish what my father started," Harm said, this time his smile small and shy. His eyes lit up in inspiration and he continued, "Once I do this, Krennick will have no reason to try and use me again. Her whole world will come crashing down. This prophecy has been her life, Mac. Once I take that away, she'll be dead inside."

"Are you sure about that?" Mac asked, her voice even softer.

"I've never been more sure about anything in my life," Harm replied confidently. His eyes met hers. The stare was powerful and intense and she had no choice but to believe him. Her trust seemingly renewed, his eyes softened and he was back to his old self. With one last nod, he turned away from her and proceeded to talk to Clay and Sydney about meeting up with Mark Falcon. Mac watched from the window, hearing bits of their conversation.

Their plane to Moscow was leaving tonight.

To be continued. . .


	29. The Difference Between We and Us

Disclaimer: not mine

Previously: The mission in Iraq is a success, but only further compounds Mac's worries. Meeting up with Jack Bristow in Turkey, the team finally unlocks Dozier's laptop to reveal the location of the artifact known as "the cornerstone". It's in Moscow, Russia and Mark Falcon is the guilty culprit.

**The Seven**

by e-dog

Chapter Twenty Nine

"The Difference Between We and Us"

**May 11, 2004**

**Moscow, Russia**

When Harm had first shown up at her apartment, he kept going on and on about how he needed his uniform. Well, the purpose for the uniform was suddenly clear.

It would be easier to maneuver around the streets of Moscow dressed as a Naval officer, plus it gave the added bonus of making them seem all-important and purposeful. In a country such as Russia, it was necessary to display one's confidence yet remain unassuming at the same time. For Harm, the uniform served as a scare tactic and disguise. He had been presumed lost many weeks ago. No one would be looking for him in a Navy uniform especially not Mark Falcon.

"Why the disguise?" she had asked the night before. "Are you afraid someone is coming after you?"

"No," he had said. His eyes had been focusing on the map as he spoke to her. "I want to scare Falcon."

"Why?"

"People do whatever you ask them when they're scared, Mac."

His answers sounded so simple. They sounded so matter-of-fact.

He was buttoning up his dress whites when Mac entered his hotel room the next morning. Deja vu was inevitable as she saw the man from nine years ago during their mission in Columbia. Of course, things had changed since then. This was a different chapter in their lives, but that uniform still had the magic of making one's heart flutter. After the final button was buttoned, he turned around and finally noticed her presence. "Hey."

"Clay is ready," Mac informed him, as she straightened the sleeves on her uniform as well. "Falcon is expecting us and as you requested, he doesn't know you're coming."

"Good," Harm nodded, grabbing his cover. "Then we're ready."

Harm winked at her. With a hand on the small of her back, he led her through the door. It was humble gestures such as that one which made Mac thank her lucky stars that Harm was back in her life. Too many times had their lives taken dangerous paths where the outcome was uncertain. As they stepped out into the daylight and entered their vehicle, she prayed this whole ordeal would be over soon.

**Undisclosed Location**

**Moscow, Russia**

When they arrived, the terms were thus: Only Clay and Mac would have the privilege of speaking with Falcon . The rest of the team had to stay seated in the lobby accompanied by two guards carrying Uzis. The APO team didn't appreciate this, especially Sydney, but they had no choice. Falcon had the artifact. For now, they would follow his terms until they retrieved it. Harm remained behind also, watching them go.

Sydney sighed, leaning against the wall. Her father, Jack, had returned to the states to fill Sloane in on their current status. She still had reservations about Sloane being so deeply involved with a Rambaldi case, but Director Chase gave his involvement the green light. She couldn't do anything about it. She also had reservations now, watching as Clay and Mac disappeared through a doorway at the end of the corridor, the princely double doors shutting behind them. She turned to Vaughn and said, "We should go in there."

"Well, I think Dumb and Dumber would have something to say about that," he joked lightly, referring to the two guards. He grabbed her hand in reassurance, "Everything will be alright."

They heard a grunt and turned to see that Victor was on the ground knocked unconscious. Harm was standing over him, his fist still balled up indicating he throw the blinding punch. Sydney's eyes widened in alarm, "Harm?"

"You're right, Sydney Bristow," Harm said, his voice the darkest she had ever heard it. "We should be in there with them. Fortunately for me, you won't be joining us."

"Us?" Vaughn repeated, moving away from the wall to advance. The cold barrel of a gun against his neck kept him in place. He looked at the guard, then back at Harm. With deep regret he asked, "Harm, what did you do?"

-------------------

Clay and Mac walked through a lavishly decorated door and into a well furnished office. It was quite impressive. On the outside, this place appeared to be another abandoned building with no electric or hot water. It was located in the most dismal of places, but if any of them knew anything, it was to never judge a book by its cover. This was obviously a hangout for people like Falcon. Where former KGB agents gathered to formulate plans of mass destruction or talk sports. Judging by the lack of activity, however, it was safe to say Mark Falcon had been out of business for a while.

It was hard to avoid the enigmatic gaze that Falcon gave Mac the moment she stepped inside his office. His eyes became rigid and at first the stare was cold, but it eventually softened. It seemed his school boy crush on her was still evident and he briefly smiled nostalgically. In the next second, he was all business and he rose from his spot on the edge of the desk. He held up a bottle of bourbon and offered some to Clay who politely declined. He didn't even bother to ask Mac.

"It's been a long time, Webb," Falcon beamed, then nodded towards her. "You are as beautiful as ever, Sarah."

"We're not here to play catch-up," Clay immediately interjected, stepping forward.

"I'd figured as much," Falcon grinned widely, raising his glass in a toast. He took a sip, then added, "I wouldn't dare suppose you came to visit a washed up KGB agent to check on his health."

Clay grinned himself and said, "No. We're here about Allison Krennick."

Glass shattered as Falcon dropped his drink at the sound of her name. The alcohol splashed on his shoes and he stepped back almost horrified at his own clumsiness. Both Clay and Mac widened their eyes in surprise at Falcon's reaction. After taking a few minutes to compose himself, he ignored Clay and fixed his eyes directly on Mac, "You know?"

"That you're one of The Seven? Yeah, I do know," Mac confirmed. "I know the truth about Russia and Harm's father."

Clay was enjoying having the upper hand as he listed the names, "Apparently, Allison is your ringleader. Clark Palmer has been arrested. Ari Haswari is currently on the NCIS hotlist. Chris Locke is dead. Sadik is dead. . ."

"I know Sadik is dead, Clay," Falcon interrupted harshly. His gaze had returned to Mac when he said that and it almost made her tremble in dread. Never in the last couple of months since it happened had she regretted getting rid of that scum. Of course, she never anticipated this particular group of people would love to see her head on chopping block as punishment. She had to turn away to avoid his brutal gaze.

"And finally, there's you," Clay finished, trying his best to move past his mistake of mentioning Sadik. "We're just missing one name. Who's lucky number seven?"

Falcon chuckled fretfully, "Short and sweet. I like that about you, Webb. You don't waste any time." Falcon's hands shook as he attempted to pour another glass of bourbon. He ignored the mess he had made on the floor, because he couldn't shake the fact that Clay had mentioned her. It seemed Allison had everyone running scared and now he was feeling the heat. After a quick sip, he remarked, "I never thought we would ever be found out. Allison was so good at keeping us under the radar and out of trouble. I can't believe that Chris is dead."

At first, Mac was dubious to Falcon's remorse, but she could see that he was going to miss Chris Locke.

"Do you still talk to Allison?" Mac asked.

"After Russia, we talked off and on. About a year ago, she severed all contact with me. Although I hear she's doing quite well for herself these days," Falcon smiled as if remembering great, prosperous times with this treacherous woman. "After we found out Harm's father was dead, our purpose sort of vanished."

Falcon paused again, then put on a thoughtful expression. "Speaking of Harm, I heard he got into some trouble. It's possible that he's dead. I imagine that's why you're here."

"It is," Clay affirmed.

"I don't know where he is and if I did, I would do my best to help you," Falcon answered truthfully. "I'm sorry you traveled all this way for nothing."

"You have what I need, Major Sokol," Harm said from the doorway, his dress whites giving off this eerie glow. If Harm was going for a 'I'm back from the dead' reaction, then he got it. Everyone could feel the chill.

Falcon nearly dropped his second glass, but was successful in setting it on his desk without spilling it. He stood up, staring at Harm as if seeing a ghost. "How did you get back here? The guards. . ."

Mac began to wonder the same thing. Those two guards were carrying Uzis, so how did Harm convince them to let him pass? Harm didn't bother to answer the question. Instead, he stepped forward and mentioned the one thing they had been risking their lives for, "You have The Cornerstone."

Falcon stared at the floor, "I was wondering how long it would take for you to figure this out."

"I had some help," Harm replied unemotionally, keeping his hands folded in front of him. His intense eyes were back, making the temperature in the room drop further, if that was possible. Mac could've sworn she saw Clay shiver. Harm's voice deepened as he spoke, "We already know where is it. I can have my team bust in here and steal it or you can just hand it over. It's your call."

Clay now gave Harm a worried stare. Have _his_ team bust in? Since when was this _his _team? Something was wrong.

"To be honest, I don't want it," Falcon sighed, fishing his pockets for some keys. He strolled over to the far wall, then took down a painting to reveal a safe. He looked over his shoulder and said sadly, "This has been a burden that I no longer wish to carry. Allison had no idea I was holding it. I tried to keep it a secret, but since you're here, Dozier obviously said too much."

Mac didn't like the tone of Falcon's voice or the way Harm hungrily stared at the safe. She watched on, as Falcon reached into its dark depths and pulled out the artifact they had been searching for. He turned around holding a solid bronze piece in the shape of triangle. It was about a foot long and maybe five inches wide on each side. There were strange markings written all around it, but nothing about it was overly spectacular. Falcon held it close to him. It seemed he wasn't ready to part with it, despite his sincere wish to hand it over and be rid of it. Harm walked over, took time to study it and asked, "What does it say?"

Falcon finally shoved it into Harm's arms and said drearly, "You already know."

Harm held it with his eyes closed, letting his fingers read the markings. All Mac and Clay could do was watch his attentions in awe. He was so calm. So controlled. So not himself. Finally, Harm turned to them and said, "I read about this in the journal. It's the last piece to a puzzle; a cornerstone. Now it's time to find that puzzle and insert the last piece."

"I give you a warning, Harm," Falcon said ominously, as the three of them prepared to leave. Harm stopped and glanced over his shoulder. Falcon finished, "That thing has been the root of all our problems. Allison went crazy looking for it. Chris and Sadik are now dead because of it. Don't let this consume you like it did us."

"I know what I'm doing," Harm said, that phrase now becoming his mantra. He knew what he was doing. He knew what the next step would be. Or did he?

They all looked up at the sound of clapping. A forced, loud clapping of mock praise. She continued her half-hearted congratulations and even went as far as to say, "Brava! Well. Done."

Mac's memory was suddenly clear. The raspy voice took her back to the day Harm was kidnapped. Mac could now put a face on their attacker. Allison Krennick. They all watched her step further inside, followed by Ari and some other henchmen. They pointed their weapons at Clay and Mac keeping them at bay. Krennick stood next to Falcon and sighed, "I can't believe you were hiding it all this time."

"We took it too far," Falcon mumbled, then Krennick slapped him across the face. He took it and made no attempts at retaliation. Did this woman really have that much power that no man was willing to fight back? Was she that intimidating?

Mac turned to look at Harm to see his reaction to all of this, but her face fell in astonishment. Harm's eyes were sad. Regretful. She let out a shocked breath and muttered, "You knew?"

He didn't answer right away and Mac repeated angrily, "You knew she was coming?"

"The other night, you asked how I escaped," Harm smiled weakly, his eyes brimming with tears. He held the artifact close to him and confessed, "I didn't escape. She let me go."

"It was all part of a well laid out plan," Krennick grinned, her squawky voice growing more irritating with each word. "Although, Harm did try to stay one step ahead of us. Didn't you, Harmon?"

Harm remained quiet. He tried to keep his eyes fixed on Mac. He wanted to convey how sorry he was that it had to be this way. He wanted her to know that everything was going to be okay, despite how horrible the situation appeared to be.

Mac just gulped, her heart crushed. He lied. He lied to her and to everyone standing by him. She couldn't believe it. Her mouth was hanging open in disgust as she listened to the cackle of Krennick standing behind her. That's right. Go ahead and laugh. Mac realized she had to be the biggest idiot on the planet.

She could hear Harm muttering her name trying to get her attention, but she refused to look at him. If she had just followed her gut. . .. She knew there was something wrong. She knew they should've turned back and forgotten all about this cockamamie prophecy. She just knew. So why did she follow him so willingly?

"Well done, Harm," Krennick smiled arrogantly, forcefully pulling the cornerstone from his hands. His lips quivered as he watched her walk away with it. She grasped it tightly, admiring it intently.

"Chris and Sadik weren't enough, Allison?" Falcon finally broke his silence, asking the one question that had been troubling him so. "Let it go."

"What happened to your need to find the truth, Mark?" Krennick smiled wickedly, holding The Cornerstone like it was a precious treasure. "I knew you would be the first to back out and betray me. Betray our beliefs. Despite your efforts to keep this from me, I'm about to finish what we started all those years ago."

Falcon shook his head, "Allison. Don't."

She growled, "Too late."

Krennick revealed her .22 Magnum from inside her jacket. She quickly turned, aimed and fired. Mac screamed involuntarily as Mark Falcon was hit. It was a perfect shot to the center of the chest. He was dead before he hit the floor. Clay held Mac by her shoulders to keep her still. She wanted to rush to his side, but Clay wouldn't let her. He said quietly, "He's gone, Sarah. He's gone."

Harm merely closed his eyes and turned away. Krennick's gaze stayed on Falcon for a moment, then she ordered to one of her followers, "Tie them up. We're all going on a little adventure."

The henchmen did as told, quickly binding the wrists of Clay, Mac, and Harm. Harm was pushed towards his friends, his shoulders bumping with Mac's. He desperately tried to seek out her attention. He whispered, "I know what I'm doing. Please, trust me."

Mac wouldn't look at him. She couldn't. While she and Clay were led out of the office, Krennick held Harm back. Once they were gone, he turned to look at her as she smiled wickedly, "Well done. You might win an Oscar for that performance, _Mr. Daniels_."

His eyes darkened. His grin just as sinful as the woman standing next to him. "Thanks to Project Helix, all things are possible. Everyone thought I was dead. Now I am Harm's genetic double. I _am_ the prophecy."

"Yes, you are," Krennick cooed, her eyes admiring him too closely, but he didn't care.

Mark Daniels was literally a new man. A Rambaldi inspired man. When Chris Locke had first told him about Rambaldi, he pushed it aside. It was too grandiose to be believable. An ancient philosopher with that kind of genius and power? No way! Then Harmon Rabb Jr. came into his life. Here was a man who was a living, breathing prophecy! So through Locke, Daniels met the infamous Allison Krennick. A treacherous woman who had been on the CIA hotlist for years. In that moment, he had a choice to make: turn her in and receive the glory that came with bagging an international terrorist or join her and see this prophecy to the end.

He didn't need to be asked twice.

Unfortunately, Harm was too honorable for his own good. He refused to be a part of any of this. So, if the real Harmon Rabb, Jr. wouldn't fulfill the prophecy for them, then a genetic double was the next best thing. It took a few extra bumps to get here, such as faking his own death, but the prophecy was finally going to be fulfilled with or without the real Harmon Rabb.

Daniels looked at Krennick anxiously, "Now, when this is all over, you can change me back, right? I won't have to look like Harm for the rest of my life?"

Who wouldn't want to look like Harm? Krennick thought wickedly to herself. She planted a soft, reassuring kiss on his cheek and proclaimed, "I made a promise to you, sugar. Without you, none of this would have been possible." Her lingering stare faded and she ordered, "You just keep on being Harm. Sound trusting and flash that smile a few more times. Mackenzie will never know the difference."

To be continued. . .


	30. Double Your Pleasure

Disclaimer: not mine

Previously: Harm betrays Victor and the APO team. Meanwhile, Clay and Mac confront Mark Falcon about Allison, The Seven and the artifact known as The Cornerstone. He sidesteps all their questions until Harm shows up in his doorway and demands to have the artifact. The ultimate betrayal occurs when Mac realizes that Harm had lied to her and led Krennick to them. When Krennick and Harm are alone, they both unveil Harm's true identity: the once thought to be dead, CIA Agent Mark Daniels.

Author's Note: Just for clarification purposes: the fake Harm will only be referred to as Daniels. In the dialogue, however, for characters who don't know his true identity, he will still be called "Harm". This was by far the toughest section to write. I hope from this point on, you still enjoy. Thanks for the reviews!

**The Seven**

by e-dog

Chapter Thirty

"Double Your Pleasure"

**May 11, 2004**

**Somewhere in the mountains of Russia**

They had all been loaded into a truck, a tarp protecting them from the elements. It had begun to rain steadily, reflecting the sour mood that hung in the air. Today was dreary. Hopeless.

They had all been bound, their hands tied behind their backs and their ankles enchained. Sydney, Vaughn and Victor had all been drugged, which meant they would be unconscious for the next few hours or so.

Mac still couldn't fathom the situation they were in. While she and Clay had been speaking with Falcon in his office, Harm had watched Krennick's team burst in and subdue the APO team. No one had a chance to defend themselves because Harm never warned them. Now the unconscious team slid around on the grungy truck bed as the vehicle rolled over the bumpy terrain. Their groggy minds were unaware of where they were going.

While they would remain oblivious, their minds drifting in and out of nightmares of what could be, Mac had a good idea of where they were going to end up. After Krennick fulfilled whatever the hell she wanted with this damn prophecy, they were all going to be killed. MIA in the hills of Russia. All thanks to a Rambaldi deranged Harm.

----------------------

Daniels had a feeling he knew _exactly_ what she was thinking. That Harmon Rabb, Jr. would've never done this to his friends. He would've never done this to _her_. Well, she was probably right. She was also unaware of his deception. Her Harm wasn't here. Daniels was the new Harm and he was watching her very closely. She was ignoring him and surprisingly, he only found this slightly irritating. He had tried to get her attention several times, but she was proving to be rather difficult. Typical.

"Mac," Daniels called her for the umpteenth time. His tone was so Harm-like, he was beginning to fool himself. "Listen to me. Please."

She remained quiet.

Oh, she was stubborn, that Sarah Mackenzie. Daniels wanted to just drop it, but he knew good ol' Harm would try and push. Try and win her over. He had listened to that man talk enough about the "girl that got away". Or should he say, he listened to that man _never_ talk about her. It was the words he wouldn't say, the words he couldn't say that gave away his true feelings for this woman.

Harm occasionally argued with Beth about minding her own business. That he and Mac had "burned out" on each other. He kept his comments short and sweet when it came to the woman in his life. Despite Harm's reluctance to admit the obvious, Daniels knew there was someone back home. Someone he cared for deeply. That woman was sitting in front of him now. So if Daniels was going to be Harm, he would keep fighting for the woman he loved. He would make her believe.

"I had no choice," Daniels continued on, his voice was pleading for a reaction. Something to indicate she was listening. "It was the only way to finish what my father. . ."

"To finish what your father started. I know, Harm. We all know. This is all about your damn father," Mac griped, finally making eye contact with him for the first time since they had started moving. Daniels let his expression drop, pretending to be hurt by her words. He knew Harm Sr. had always been a touchy subject, but it seemed that reason would never justify what "Harm" did to her. Mac, instead, returned his hurt gaze with one of her own and muttered, "Like an idiot, I believed you."

"We all believed you," Clay added grievously. He struggled to free his hands from the ropes, but to no avail. He leaned his head back against the tarp and groaned in disgust. They were both disgusted.

Daniels had to keep from smiling.

----------------------

The truck came to a stop again, shaking the unconscious Victor awake. He groaned, scrunching his eyes and forehead in irritation. The headache from the blow to his head was wearing off. . .slowly. His eyes fluttered open, but his vision was still blurry. He shut them again.

Mac watched Victor wishing she had never brought him along. His presence hadn't been necessary on this mission, but her wariness about Harm convinced her she would need back-up. Plus, she didn't know anything about Clays' new CIA buddies. She needed Victor as another close friend she could trust. Her cautiousness to protect herself only brought more trouble onto Victor and this thought plagued her with guilt.

"Ma'am?" he finally mumbled. "Where are we?"

"Ask Harm," she replied coldly, feeling those eyes on her again. She ignored them and asked concerned, "Are you okay?"

"I've been better," Victor forced a smile. He struggled to sit upright, then looked around. He commented, "We're not moving."

"We stopped four minutes and 35 seconds ago," Mac said, wondering what was going on. "This is the longest we have paused in the last two hours."

"We're here," Clay said gravely. He stared at all of them with timorous eyes. "It's time."

----------------------

The tarp was opened letting in whirls of grey color, wind and rain. Daniels watched Mac squint as the cold droplets hit her in the face. She still hated him, but no matter. They were here now. It was obvious not even "Harm" would lessen her anger.

Mac's eyes adjusted to see Ari and the same four henchmen from earlier aiming machine guns at them. Ari stared at her with an inquisitive look, obviously recognizing her from the gala in D.C.. He finally focused and motioned for Victor to slide forward. "I'm going to unlock the shackles from your ankles. Don't try anything. My men won't hesitate to blast you full of holes."

Victor did as he was told, letting his feet dangle over. Ari undid the chains, then helped Victor slide off the back of the truck. He was pushed aside being watched closely by one of the gunmen. Ari then waved at her to move. Mac clumsily slid forward and watched Ari remove the chains from around her ankles with care. He gently helped her down off the truck, his attentions to make sure she was alright confusing her. A man with his touch and grace didn't reflect that of a terrorist. He ushered her to stand next to Victor all the while giving her a comforting smile. Next was Clay. He fell out of the truck, mostly do to his own gracelessness. Ari didn't bother to help him up. Daniels was last. He stuck his feet out first, waited on the chains to be removed and then jumped out without the aid of Ari.

The rain had instantly drenched them all. Mac looked around not understanding why they had stopped. There was nothing here but mountains and trees. Ari noticed her confusion and filled in for her, "We can't drive any further. From here we walk."

"There," Daniels whispered facing away from them. They all followed his gaze and noticed the enormous rock wall of a mountain. This immense palisade was gorgeous, with jagged rocks sticking out in all directions. The rain made a strange yet beautiful sound as it reverberated off the forest surrounding them providing the soundtrack for this adventure. It was suddenly soothing and the view breathtaking. After scaling the mountain with her eyes, Mac discovered an opening. Above the opening was a symbol she didn't recognize. It looked like an eye.

Ari's shadowy smile curled some more as he spoke quietly, "The symbol of Rambaldi."

"It was all true. It's here," Daniels continued to mumble, barely making his words audible. He repeated the prophecy, "A vision of hope and prosperity cascaded along mountains and trees."

Despite her misgivings, Mac had to admit this was an impressive natural form. Only one question remained. What was really hidden inside this mountain?

"You still have doubts?" came Krennick's voice. She appeared from around the other side of the truck. Her tailored suit darkened with the rain, her shoes replaced with more suitable hiking boots. In her own graceful way, she made the outfit work, even with long, wispy blond strands of hair shadowing her eyes.

She stood next to Daniels and gushed, "This is what I've been working for. The last ten years dedicated to this." He didn't respond. He kept his gaze fixed on the symbol of Rambaldi. Krennick turned around and told Ari, "While Sydney Bristow is integral to Rambaldi's prophecies, this was not meant for her. She needs to remain alive for her own destiny."

"I understand," Ari said with a curt nod. He turned around and called to one of the henchmen,"Ryan. Drive them away from here, then dump them. Once that task is done, return to this spot. If they act out of line, subdue them. Don't kill them."

"Yes, sir," was Ryan's reply. He jogged to the driver side door, but before climbing in, Ari called him again. "Yes, sir?"

"Also, take care of our _other_ assets," Ari ordered firmly. "Just like we talked about."

Mac didn't have any idea what Ari was referring to, but Ryan obviously did. He nodded again, this time with a smirk adorning his rough face. He hopped into the truck. After listening to the engine roar to life, everyone watched Ryan drive away with the APO team still rolling around in the back.

Clay let his heart sink knowing he couldn't protect the APO team. He hadn't known them for very long, but it didn't seem right that they had to be treated this way after all the help they had provided.

After the truck was out of sight, the rest of the group fixed their eyes on the symbol once more, before Krennick ordered, "Let's get inside out of this rain."

To keep up their act in front of Mac and the others, Krennick pushed Daniels forward, revealing a small handgun and pressing it into his side. She ordered maliciously, "Move."

Daniels immediately began walking forward, playing the part of a captured prisoner very well. Ari then motioned for the rest to follow. With machine guns to their backs, they all followed Krennick into the unknown.

------------------------

Ryan drove for about ten miles before stopping. He turned his head to the left and saw the real Harmon Rabb, Jr. knocked out cold from some drug Krennick had given him. Ryan couldn't believe this man would give up so much potential and power just to maintain his Naval career! What? He was trying to protect his supposed loved ones? What an idiot!

Now Harmon Rabb, Jr. would just have to sit this one out. He would crawl through the hills of Russia just like his father and regret not taking his one and only chance at greatness. It seemed that was the plan, anyway. For whatever reason, Krennick didn't want to kill him for his insolence. So once Ryan disposed of the APO team, Rabb would be driven deeper into the unknown and dropped to fend for himself. Just like his father before him.

Ryan exited the vehicle. When the door shut, Harm opened his eyes to see he was now alone. Harm was fully awake and aware of his surroundings despite what this goon, Ryan, had thought. Harm tested his restraints again. His wrists were still bound behind him.

He then listened. Movement in the back indicated Ryan was unloading something. It wouldn't be too long before he came back to get him. So Harm repositioned himself until he was leaning backwards, his legs held up in a kicking position. He waited with great tensity.

Ryan opened the door and was met with a swift kick to the face. He grunted after his nose was crushed under Harm's boot, then hit the ground with a thud.

Harm jumped out and checked to make sure that the disillusioned Rambaldi follower was unconscious. Sure enough, Ryan was out like a light.

The first hurdle was getting his arms back in front of him. After several minutes of struggling and bending his long form into positions he cared not to ever bend into again, his arms were finally situated in front of him.

Harm searched Ryan for the keys to his cuffs. He found them and quickly discarded the shackles. Then he patted Ryan down for any weapons. Two handguns. In the back of the truck was one machine gun. He would need that too. He tossed one of the handguns back there and kept one on his person. He also searched the glove box for a compass. He was in luck. He knew the mountain was to the north. They were facing south. He was about to hop into the truck and drive away, when he spotted two bodies on the ground. He cautiously walked up to find a young woman waking up. It took him a moment, but he remembered that face. He kneeled down and gasped, "Sydney? Is that you?"

"Harm?" Sydney answered groggily, then suddenly looked alarmed. She jumped up into a fighting pose making Harm jump back in surprise.

"Hold on, wait a minute!" Harm held up his hands in protest. His memory wasn't so short that he couldn't remember the last time this woman delivered a few blinding punches his way. She lunged at him, but he used his weight to push her aside. She stumbled, still not completely all together from being knocked out. She recovered quickly, however, and was about to unleash her wrath! He tried again, "Sydney, please!"

"You set us up!" she accused, expertly going low to the ground and performing a spinning kick to trip him up. Harm was flat on his back and before he knew it, her forearm was jammed into his neck.

He gasped, "No, not me! I swear it wasn't me!"

After some reluctance on her part, she finally let up her hold on his neck. He spoke again, clearly winded, "Krennick lied to everyone. She showed me Rambaldi's prophecy. I read it and still didn't want to believe it, so ultimately I refused to do it. I told her I was willing to die once to end this and that she could kill me now. Then she revealed. . .something unthinkable. Please believe me. I didn't betray you."

Sydney looked at Harm's disheveled appearance. His long, unkempt hair and the stubble on his chin indicated days or maybe weeks of captivity. His green eyes soft, yet extremely tired and worn. This wasn't the same man that took them to Iraq. That man was well groomed and vibrant with life. How could this be? How could their be two Harmon Rabbs. . .? Then after searching her memories, she stated in disbelief, "Project Helix?"

"Mark Daniels is my genetic double," Harm confirmed sadly. He couldn't look at Sydney as he finished, "I would've died for that man. I thought he was everything. I wanted to be just like him when I was CIA. He fooled everyone. Especially his best friend, Chris."

Mark Daniels was still alive? Well, the boys at NCIS would have a heart attack if they ever found out! Sydney finally let go of Harm and they both rose to their feet.

There was still another pressing issue to address.

"Harm, is he. . .?" Sydney began to ask, feeling sympathy and empathy for his situation. She'd had her share of heartbreaks from that vile Project Helix. Her best friend murdered and replaced by something unbelievably evil.

"No, he's not one of The Seven. I still don't know who the last member is," Harm answered her, knowing the question she was going to ask. Then he pulled himself from the dark depths of his mind and said resiliently, "And if we don't stop both Mark and Krennick from attempting to fulfill that prophecy, anyone within a few yards of that thing will die."

Sydney didn't like the sound of that. "What do you mean? You know what they're looking for?"

"It was meant for my father. _Only_ my father. Not even his son can duplicate the results Krennick is looking for. She is sick. She needs help. If Mark Daniels lays himself in that container, the prophecy will backfire and set actions into motion that can't be reversed. He could die and kill anyone near him."

Harm didn't need to say anymore. Sydney didn't need to understand what or how the prophecy would backfire. She understood the need to get everyone to safety. She understood they had to stop Mark Daniels and Allison Krennick before it was too late.

------------------------

After walking for about 20 minutes, Daniels began to grow queasy. The tunnel was wide but enveloped in darkness. There was also this pungent smell. It reeked of death, but that did not scare him. He was ready for anything. Krennick had prepared him well. He could hear the one they called Victor cough a few times, trying to resist the urge to puke. It was understandable considering the smell. Eventually, Krennick provided large flashlights after the daylight from outside had run out. She gave one to Mac, forcing her to grip the flashlight with bound hands.

Ari, Daniels and Krennick carried the other flashlights helping to guide the way.

Officially, they were a party of 9: three henchman; Ari and Krennick; Mac, Victor, Clay and finally, himself. They all walked deeper and deeper into the mountain, wondering just how far it went. Daniels nearly tripped on a rock causing them all to stop. He pointed his flashlight at the ground and spied the symbol of Rambaldi again. He directed his flashlight ahead again and announced, "We must be getting close."

He was right. A few minutes later, they walked into an enormous room. Daylight was filtering in from an unknown source high above them. The flashlights were set on the ground still providing most of the light. About 50 yards in every direction were strange patterns and markings on the ground, the walls, everywhere. Many of them reflecting the markings on The Cornerstone. Ari took the initiative to kneel down and graze his hand over a marking on the floor. His eyes continued to scan the floor and he deduced, "The puzzle is along the far wall. The Cornerstone fits in it somehow."

Victor, Mac and Clay, were never privy to previous artifacts or writings concerning the ancient prophet. They were simply astounded at the room's immense size, let alone the prophecy that led them here.

"Here," Ari pointed at the wall. He had ventured ahead, still translating the markings until he reached the far wall. A triangular void was right in the center. He turned and said pressingly, "Give it to him."

Krennick produced a knife and cut the ropes from around Daniels' wrists. She then handed The Cornerstone to him and said encouragingly, "_You_ must connect the final piece."

Daniels stared at the artifact inquiringly, then at the wall. He took cautious steps until he was standing next to Ari and facing the triangular hole in the wall. He took a moment to figure out just exactly how it fit. He kneeled down and pushed the artifact about a third of the way in. They all watched on, anticipating something to happen. They weren't sure what to expect, but the suspense was unbearable.

Finally, Daniels took a deep breath and pushed The Cornerstone all the way in until he heard a click. They all waited with bated breath, but nothing happened. Long seconds passed, but still nothing. Daniels' shoulders sagged and he turned to look at Krennick in disappointment. Then he felt a tremor. His eyes widened as he asked, "Did you feel that?"

"Feel what?" Krennick asked.

Before Daniels could answer, the ground beneath them began to shake.

To be continued. . .


	31. Double Your Fun

Disclaimer: not mine

**The Seven**

by e-dog

Chapter Thirty One

"Double Your Fun"

**May 11, 2004**

**Somewhere in the mountains of Russia**

The ground shook with great fervor, nearly sending everyone to the dirt floor. Daniels and Ari leaned against the wall for support, waiting for (and hoping) this shaking would stop before the whole place caved in! Krennick was the only one who didn't seem worried. Her deranged, childlike fascination with the entire prophecy was full-fledged now as she gazed upon The Cornerstone with delight. She also maintained her footing with extreme skill and shouted, "Just wait! Just wait!"

Well, they waited, but the shaking worsened with each passing second. Mac had tried her best to stay up, but she eventually fell backwards into Victor sending them both to the ground. Clay danced around surprisingly holding his own, then looked at his own feet. His eyes widened as he said with great concern, "The ground is cracking! It's opening up!"

Mac followed his gaze, seeing the cracks in the ground herself. This couldn't be good. She shouted with great trepidation, "Harm! What the hell did you do?"

"What I'm supposed to do!" Daniels shouted in a somewhat crazy fashion. It almost surprised him at how quick he was to respond to a name that wasn't his own. He truly had become Harmon Rabb, Jr. and with this realization he yelled unmercifully, "It's _my_ destiny!"

"You did it, _Harm!_" Krennick exclaimed, rushing up to stand behind Daniels and placing her hands on his shoulders to support herself. She repeated expectantly, "Just wait. Let this run its course."

"I sincerely hope the place will still be standing when it's over!" Ari commented, inching closer to his partners in crime. The three of them just watched The Cornerstone and balanced themselves as best they could to keep from falling over.

Before anyone could protest anymore, slowly the trembling lessened. Krennick ordered her henchmen to keep the guns trained on the prisoners although there was very little chance anyone would try to escape now. They were all disoriented from the shake up, both Mac and Victor still on the ground. Clay kneeled down next to them to make sure they were okay. Mac could still feel her heart racing from the surprise quake. She was even more shocked that anything happened at all! This was all supposed to be a hoax, right? This prophecy was a hoax, it had to be.

Victor sat up and shook dust from his hair. He then released a breathy, "Whoa."

"You can say that again," Mac said quietly, keeping her eyes on Harm. He had to have been brainwashed or something. She didn't recognize this man. This wasn't the same man who came to her only a few nights ago. What wasn't right about him?

Eventually, the shaking came to a complete stop and everyone could take a moment to collect themselves. Now that was over, what next? It wouldn't take long to find out. Daniels was still leaning against the wall and felt a rumble through the crumbling surface. Both he and Ari stepped back just as the markings came to life. The Cornerstone itself began to emit a fiery light while the other symbols on the wall pushed out or sunk into the rock and earth. The group stared at all the activity with hope and fright. This was the most amazing thing they had ever seen! The wall was lighting up like a Christmas tree during the holidays!

The blinking and flashing stopped abruptly. The wall split on three sides with a loud cracking sound. A block of stone about the size of a standard door pushed out, then began to rotate in a circle. Dust clouds formed during this whole process and Daniels shielded his eyes from the debris. He might've heard Mac yell at him to step back and avoid any unnecessary injury. Despite how much she hated "Harm" right now, she was still concerned for his safety.

Then the unexpected occurred.

"Harm, step back!" Clay yelled.

Daniels jumped back, noticing the ground beneath had started to open up as well. Another mini quake began as a coffin like form pushed its way through the clay surface where he had been previously standing.

Suddenly, the sounds stopped. The lights went out. The ground stopped shaking and the dust cleared. Krennick stepped up next to Daniels again and said weightily, "It's your destiny."

Daniels replied with, "It's amazing."

Mac couldn't believe her eyes. The rotating door had opened to reveal hieroglyphics describing the journal entry that led them hear. A clear, precise drawing of Harmon Rabb, Sr.'s face was etched into the stone, his robes of white wrapped around him tightly. There were also gold wings attached to his back. He looked oddly like an angel. Mac muttered, "Rambaldi thought he was a god?"

"A god that could fly," Clay affirmed. "Rambaldi could predict many things, but he wasn't always accurate. He saw Rabb's ability to fly as god-like. In reality, all it took to fly was a modern machine powered by gasoline."

After studying the drawings, it was time to look at the coffin. Both Ari and Daniels walked up, studied that for a moment too, then pushed the lid off the top. Inside was the mold that Rambaldi had described. The depression of a human body was cast in what seemed to be a hard, clay surface. According to this prophecy, all Harm would have to do was lay himself inside, each muscle, limb, finger and hair fitting perfectly inside.

Ari then took his turn to repeat the prophecy he had read so many times since discovering Rambaldi, "The dreams are so vivid, I have been able to construct a mold specific to his form. He must find this mold, lay himself inside to find the truth in which he seeks"

Daniels knew what he had to do, but frowned as he noticed something peculiar. His finger traced the outline of a sharp point embedded inside the mold. In fact, there seemed to be several. Two near the shoulders, five going down the back. Four on each arm. Sharp little needle-like points strategically placed all over. He was supposed to press himself inside this thing with all these penetrative pinpoints? Daniels shook his head and asked warily, "Uh, Allison? What the hell are these?"

Krennick walked over and took a look herself. She studied them and then asked, "Remember the serum? It changed your blood type to mimic your father's?"

"Yeah, I remember."

"According to the journal, these little guys are safeguards. Sensors. The needle points will draw blood and determine if you are the one who should see the vision," Krennick explained.

"Harm! Don't!" Mac immediately objected after hearing that. "How do we know that won't kill you or draw too much blood?"

"She's makes a good point, sir," Victor voiced his agreement and fear for his friend's life. Daniels turned around to face the rest of the group, still amazed at their concern for him. Well, their concern for Harm. They were loyal people, he would give them that. He shut his eyes in thought, then removed his uniform jacket. Victor's eyes widened as he called out, "Sir? What are you doing?"

"I have to take off my clothes," Mark explained, as he kicked off his shoes then went for his belt. "They'll just get in the way."

Clay grimaced as he watched the pants come down. Harmon Rabb Jr. was now clad in just his boxers and socks for all of them to see. Clay looked at the ground and commented under his breath, "No one ever said the man was shy."

Mac rolled her eyes, then continued to be the voice of reason, "Harm, please! Stop!"

Krennick was now officially tired of the constant objections and glared at her prisoners, specifically Mac. "Take them back near the tunnel entrance and watch them. We'll deal with them once this is over." Krennick continued to focus on Mac and added, "If anyone tries to play hero, shoot the Colonel."

The three henchmen roughly grabbed the forearms of Mac, Clay and Victor and dragged them away. Mac watched helplessly as Harm inspected the mold, still seemingly wary of placing himself inside that thing, but excited about it nonetheless. They were pushed up against the rock wall near the room entrance, only giving them a partial view of what was happening. Mac kept her eyes on Harm as long as she possibly could, before he leaned against the side and began to lift himself up and crawl in. . .

"Nooo!" came the bloodthirsty shout of a familiar voice. An all too familiar voice. Mac whipped her head around to see _Harm_ racing up to them. As her mouth fell open in surprise, he discharged his machine gun, taking down at least one of the henchmen. Catching the other two off guard, he raced past all of them in a blur. Mac blinked, trying to discern if her eyes were seeing correctly. If Harm was with Krennick. . .then how?

She could hear a bone crunching sound and stepped back to avoid unnecessary injury. Sydney was effectively kicking the crap out of the last two henchmen. Vaughn was untying Victor's hands. Clay was already free and came up to untie hers. Mac shook her head and mumbled, "Did you see. . ._him_?"

"I was hoping I was hallucinating," Clay admitted, once her hands were free. Then he added, "It would appear there are two Harmon Rabbs."

"How?"

"I don't know."

They all heard one of the Harm's shout a warning, "Mark! Don't you do it!"

He had come to a stop in the middle of the room, pointing his machine gun at the fake Harm.

Mark Daniels stared at his own reflection with great spite and anger. Behind the real Harm stood Mac and the others, staring on in disbelief. Daniels almost grinned in satisfaction at the look of total disgust on her face. She had been fooled. Fooled so badly that it hurt. He then returned his gaze to Harm, that look of determination twofold. Two Harmon Rabbs giving each other death stares and injurious frowns. Everyone in the room, minus Ari and Krennick, watched on with shocked gazes. Daniels smiled, "You can't kill a man who's already dead. So why don't you put the gun down."

"Mark, you take one more step towards that thing, I swear I will kill you," Harm warned once more. He saw Krennick move to retrieve her gun, but Vaughn took charge.

"I wouldn't," Vaughn said sternly, aiming his firearm at her. He stood next to Harm, mimicking his shooting stance and said calmly, "This will all be easier if you both give up now."

"Mark, Krennick lied. That prophecy will not be fulfilled," Harm explained, holding his ground. "I don't know how that thing works, but trust me, no medical science or cosmetic surgery is going to make it believe you're my father."

"You just don't understand the true nature of Rambaldi!" Daniels sneered back, but remained still. "Chris told me all about him. I was a skeptic just like you Harm, but Chris told me something. He said that if I ever crossed paths with a Rambaldi artifact, then it was my destiny to follow that lead wherever it takes me. _You _were that artifact Harm. I read all about _you_ in the journal."

"I am _not_ an artifact. I am simply a man who is the son of a very special father," Harm clarified. "If my father was out here, looking for his destiny, he died trying to complete that mission. I won't make his mistake. I won't let you make the same mistake either."

All the while this exchange was going on, Mac had noticed Krennick's eyes narrowing in frustration. Before anyone had realized it, Krennick surprised everyone. Mac shouted loudly, "Mark!"

Vaughn fired at his first instinct to Krennick's movement, but that didn't stop her from completing what she wanted. She had pushed Mark backwards right toward the mold. He tripped in, not laying in as perfectly at first, but his skin seemed to be pulled in magnetically, fusing with the mold.

His body sank in perfectly, every muscle and bone structure fitting in their natural spot. Harm's face dropped in horror as Daniels screamed in pain as each needlepoint pierced his skin. Krennick had been shot in the arm, now resting on the ground, but was anxiously awaiting the fulfilment of the prophecy. She crazily waved her good arm and encouraged, "It's supposed to hurt, you wimp! Just hang on!"

Ari just stood idly by wanting to do something, but was going deaf from Daniels' murderous shrieks of anguish. He began to wonder if his mind had been so caught up in this prophecy that he didn't stop to think of the consequences. He didn't once stop to think, what if she were wrong?

Mac ran up to Harm, who had now lowered his gun and let it hang from the strap on his shoulders. They both stared at each other. For one second, the world was falling away. Daniels' cries drowned out to almost nothing. Now, it was just the two of them. Something had to be said, but now wasn't the time.

Before either one could utter a word, they all felt it. The ground was beginning to tremble. Again.

Harm groaned, knowing it wasn't supposed to be this way. He could see in Daniels' eyes that he wasn't ready for what was happening to him. That Rambaldi was more intelligent than they had all conceived. The awesomeness of his genius became even more apparent watching, feeling and listening to the activity all around them. There was only one way to stop it.

Harm turned to Mac and ordered, "Run."

"What do you mean, run?" Mac argued immediately, but Harm grabbed her shoulders tightly sending waves of fear through her. He had never been this aggressive with her. His eyes were wild as he yelled, "Damn it, Marine, I said run! I have to try and save him, but I won't let you die in the process!"

"Harm, I'm not leaving you. Not again," Mac protested, but his grip tightened into a deathly one. He then drew her into a firm embrace and she held on to him for dear life. Precious seconds passed and he let her go. He forcefully and reluctantly pushed her away. She weakly called, "Harm. . .please. . ."

Once again, the wall came to life. The Cornerstone was working its vicious magic, upset that the wrong person had taken advantage. The ground started shaking more fervently now. Harm turned around watching the life drain out of Daniels. Time was running out. Ari was dragging a reluctant Krennick away, finally realizing the grave mistake they had made. She protested, seething, "I have to stay! Mark, you're almost there! Hang on!"

"We must go, Allison! We were wrong!" Ari griped, yanking on her with all his strength.

"No!" she shrieked, but she was weakened by her gunshot wound, unable to pull away from Ari.

While Ari fought to save Krennick, Vaughn ran back to Sydney and the others and shouted, "This place is going to cave in! We've got to get out of here!"

Mac was backing away as she pleaded, "Harm, he's gone! Please!"

"Mac, go!" Harm shouted vehemently once more as he raced up to Mark. He tried to grab hold of Mark's hand, but he yelped in pain. His hand had been burned from some unknown heat source. He stared at his burns incredulously, then back at Mark. His lookalike was staring at him with shock now; mouth shaped in an 'O' of stunned silence. His eyes wider than dinner plates. He was in obvious pain. So much pain, that screaming would do no good. Harm was about to reach in again, when he noticed someone next to him. He griped, "Damn it, Mac! Get out. The place is coming down!"

"The longer we argue, the more likely we'll die," she said stubbornly, then attempted to grab at Mark herself. She immediately yanked her hand back, the heat coming off his body unbearably hot. "He's being burned alive!"

"From the inside out!" Harm added, looking around frantically. He then suggested, "I think we'll have to break it!"

He raised up his machine gun and flipped it around. He held it like a bat and took a swinging stance. Mac wondered aloud, "What will happen if it breaks?"

"I don't know, but I have to try and save him," Harm repeated, then said, "Stand back!"

After Mac backed up a few feet and he got up the nerve, he swung with great intensity at the clay structure that had trapped Mark inside, hoping to free him. A white flash was the result. An invisible power blasting them both backwards. Mac flew at least a few yards before she hit the rough, stone ground. She groaned, listening to crumbling earth and rock crash down all around her. Her head was swimming and for a moment, she felt she was going to die in that very spot. Something was going to crush her and end this miserable happening once and for all.

Then, she felt strong hands on her arms. They lifted her up and began to swiftly carry her away.

She heard feet pounding, the tempo going faster and faster. There was urgency in the movements as she bounced in the arms of her hero. Her vision was slightly blurry as she could see slabs of grey and white rushing past. Then she felt a sudden push forward and a yell of desperation as she flew through the air. She heard the mountain moan, finally giving way to the disturbance and then there was silence. She pushed herself up off the dirt, then blinked her eyes to see where she had been thrown. For the first time, she noticed moisture. Rain. It was a light rain tapping her head with a lethargic rhythm. She was outside. She was safe.

She turned her head and saw another body lying next to her. Her heart rate sped up as she realized, "Harm!"

She scrambled over to him and lifted up his head. His eyes were closed, but before she could suspect the worst he coughed. He was still alive.

His eyelids opened revealing relief at the sight of her. He flashed her his infamous smile and simply said, "Hey."

Mac choked back a laugh and tears with a response of, "Hey you."

"I . . . saved you? We made it?" he asked weakly.

"Yeah, Flyboy. You saved me."

They both stared back at the mountain. The entrance had been closed off with large stones and debris. It would take a bulldozer to ever get back inside, but they both knew they never wanted to step foot inside that place ever again. Mac could finally feel her heart rate returning to normal, her mind just beginning to process everything that went on in there. How could Rambaldi, this supposed genius, create events so mystical and intriguing? She thought he was a man of science. An unsurmountable feat of his era. He wasn't supposed to be this wizard where his creations caused unnatural phenomenon.

Then she felt a large hand on hers and her questions about Rambaldi went away momentarily.

Harm forced himself off the ground and threw his arms around her, almost tackling her. Unlike his last embrace of pure fear and frustration, this was full of alleviation. Thankfulness. Love. It was warm, soothing and Mac could only wonder how she could have confused that imposter to be the Harm she knew and loved. She pulled back, took a long look at him, then pinched his cheeks and pulled. He yanked his head back and complained, "Ow! Mac!"

"I'm just making sure," Mac said seriously. "This is the second time in my life where there have been two of you."

"Well, trust me, that wasn't plaster on Mark's face," Harm shook his head and rubbed his slightly hurt cheeks. She gave him a bewildered expression and he promised, "I'll explain everything later."

"There's a lot I don't understand," Mac admitted, her voice small yet full of questions. He simply stared at her silently assuring he would have all the answers she sought.

"Sarah!" came the shout of Clay, running up to them. "One second the two of you were behind us, then you were gone! We thought you two didn't make it out!" He stopped once he reached them, trying to catch his breath. He could see they were physically alright and he kneeled down on the ground next to them. "What happened to Daniels?"

"I put him out of his misery," Harm answered begrudgingly, slowly rising from the ground. Before Harm could, Clay took the initiative to offer his hand to Mac and helped her to stand up as well. It wasn't the time or place to get jealous, but it seemed those harbored feelings were still there. Harm ignored Clay's act of chivalry and finished, "It was too late. I couldn't pull him out. I broke the mold, shattering it and him." Harm paused then added regrettably, "I didn't want to kill him."

Clay showed his indifference as he said, "I know you like to try and be noble, Harm, but he had it coming. He deceived his country and friends for nearly ten years. Too many lives were lost. We almost lost the two of you."

Victor appeared from behind some brush, holding a rifle of his own. He smiled at both Harm and Mac, clearly happy to see they made it out in one piece. He joined the group and reported, "Ari and Krennick gave us the slip in all the confusion. They left the truck, so I don't know how they're going to get out of this jungle without transportation."

"Once we get back to civilization, I'll make some calls," Clay said. "We'll have helicopters searching these hills in no time."

"Well, in that case, can I suggest that we get the hell out of here?" Victor said, with a half grin. "I've had enough excitement in the last few days that'll last me a lifetime."

"I agree," Clay added.

"I need to do something fellas," Harm spoke up, his voice gentle and innocuous. He caught Mac's understanding look. She already knew what he wanted to do. With a smile, he stared at the horizon and elaborated, "I have to say goodbye to someone one last time."

-------------------------------------

_Well, Dad. I'm back. I thought the last time I was out here, that I had found closure, but you had one more secret up your sleeve. You never met Allison, but she knew all about you. She led me back to you and in some ways, I'm grateful she did. I learned something about you that I never knew before. Maybe you're watching from wherever you are. Maybe you saw what happened. Or maybe you have no clue what I'm talking about. You could probably care less who this Rambaldi guy is. I guess I'll never really know. _

_I do know that I still miss you. I think about you everyday and after this, I'm sure I'll never forget every tape you sent home. I'll never forget the stories of your heroism or this prophecy surrounding your life. Whether you remained in Russia searching for this vision or you simply couldn't get back to us, I trust you used good judgement. I know you loved Mom. I know you loved me. That will never change. _

_I should go. I'm finally ready to move on, after all this time. I love you._

Harm lowered his head for a moment, hoping his silent message would travel the necessary distance to reach his father's ears. He slowly turned around and saw Mac waiting patiently a few feet behind him. He walked over and noticed how stricken she appeared. Her eyes sad. He knew exactly what was on her mind and he reassured, "Mac, he was my genetic double. The only way to tell the difference is through a special eye test, or something. You couldn't have. . ."

"I still should've known," Mac insisted, trying to force a smile but failing miserably. She hugged herself, "I'm sorry for everything. . ."

Harm repeated inquisitively, "Everything?"

"I let Krennick grab you in the first place," Mac explained, finally being able to tell Harm how sorry she was for letting that happen. "I could've stopped this before it all began."

Harm then gave her a genuine smile, reaching up to gingerly cup her cheek in his hand, "No hard feelings, Mac. The fact that you're here now is all that matters."

She leaned into the contact wishing it would never end. It was another hallmark moment created under the weirdest of circumstances. . .and it was effectively interrupted, just like most of them were.

"Sir? Ma'am? I don't mean to rush you, but. . .," came the apologetic voice of Victor.

"It's okay, Gunny. We're coming," Harm smiled, relinquishing his hold on Mac's face. He winked at her and said, "Let's go home."

-------------------------------------

Ari Haswari tightened his torn shirt sleeves around her arm, trying to stop the bleeding. At first, he wanted to believe the loss of blood was atoning to her delirious actions, but soon he realized just how deeply ingrained the prophecy was in her mind. She seemed like she was in such control over the situation. That she was absolutely right about everything. He used to believe he was a good judge of character. In his line of work, you had to be. He had to know his enemy like they were his best friend.

It was clear he didn't reevaluate his position with Allison well enough. She had inner demons that ultimately skewed her judgement.

"I believed in you. In the prophecy," Ari told her regrettably. "I gave up my original beliefs. The seven of us were friends and now. . ."

"I never steered you wrong, Ari," Krennick insisted, wincing as she pulled her arm away from his attentions and rose from the ground. "Harm ruined it. I should've just killed him after attaining his DNA."

"You held on to him," Ari agreed, standing with her. "What was he to you?"

Krennick merely smiled, thinking about what could've been. Her job at JAG. The potential of something with Harm. Then she scowled. Her romantic attachment to him was really the issue she never dealt with. She thought she was ready that night she kidnapped him. That she could forget how adorable he could be. How righteous and noble. His refusal to believe in Rambaldi and his final display of defiance today had now effectively severed those notions. She replied coldly, "He's nothing now."

"Nothing," Ari repeated somberly. "After all of this, we are left with nothing."

"Maybe not," Krennick said thoughtfully, her gaze now looking north, back at the mountain.

Ari followed her gaze and asked incredulously, "You aren't suggesting we go back in there?"

"Not yet. Not today, but soon," Krennick promised. "I was watching Mark. He could see the vision, I could tell. Harm didn't let him finish."

Ari could say he saw otherwise. He saw Mark Daniels frozen in anguish, not relishing in this vision of hope and prosperity. He held his tongue, however. Nothing he could say would ever change her mind. She was going to go back someday. Maybe with another Harm clone. Maybe to see if Mark survived.

Or if she were crazy enough, maybe to put herself in that mold and see the vision for herself.

It was times like these he would pick up, move on. But he couldn't. Not this time. He lost people close to him and despite his training, losing those friends hurt him. Believing in something with so much passion only to have the one person he trusted _lie_ to him. No, she was never coming back to this mountain.

For some reason, he just couldn't let that happen.

To be continued. . .


	32. Coming Home

Disclaimer: not mine

**The Seven**

by e-dog

Chapter Thirty Two

"Coming Home"

**May 13, 2004**

**APO Headquarters**

**Los Angeles**

Their first stop was Los Angeles.

It took them nearly two days to leave Russia, but they were finally back on American soil. It was now time to hear the one side of the story that had been held captive for the last month and a half. Jack Bristow entered APO with an entourage of people. His boss, Arvin Sloane, welcomed all parties with open arms. He shook Harm's hand vigorously and said, "So you are Harmon Rabb, Jr."

"Yes, sir," Harm replied with a curt nod. He noticed the look of fascination on the older man's face. It reminded him of someone. It didn't take him too long to figure out who.

Krennick.

It was the same twinkle in her eye that he saw in this man right now. It only came about when she was talking about Rambaldi. Before Harm could dwell on that any longer, the twinkle was gone. Arvin Sloane was done shaking his hand and was explaining why they were here. Apparently, Rambaldi extended well beyond Harm's experience with Krennick.

Rambaldi truly was a man at the center of many CIA outlined operations, spanning over several hundred prophecies and ancient devices. Harm was here to officially log his experience with them, APO.

They sat him in an interrogation room. The CIA had been following Rambaldi for some time, they explained to him, but APO was the only branch now dealing with it. As far as other agencies were concerned, Rambaldi didn't exist and it was going to remain that way. They had to hear his version of the events for their closing reports and to add to their research. He was reassured that everything said would be confidential. Harm was reluctant, but a reassuring nod from Sydney allowed him to trust what Arvin was saying.

Harm had noticed Mac and Victor had been pushed into another room. He looked up at Sydney and pleaded, "Please. Let them listen to this. They have just as much right to hear as you do."

Sydney looked at Jack, who nodded his approval. Only if Mac and Victor were sworn to secrecy.

An Agent Weiss was the interviewer. It couldn't have been Sydney, Vaughn or Jack although it was clear they wanted to be the ones asking the questions. Unfortunately, they had been directly involved. Their judgements and opinions already tainted by what they had seen.

First, Harm had to explain what went wrong.

"I guess this all lies with Mark Daniels," Harm began sadly. "I met him my second day at the CIA. He attached to me so quickly and I didn't think anything of it then, but now it's all so clear. Rumor had it that he was like a father figure to everyone and since I was the new guy, he just wanted me to feel at home. Despite his deception, I still appreciate his kindness towards me. I guess that's kinda wrong to say, isn't it? That I still care about him? His supposed good heart?"

"Not at all," Mac mumbled, watching through the glass. Clay was standing next to her along with the rest of the APO team and Victor.

Harm twiddled his thumbs, mostly out of nerves. He didn't like this setting. Being treated like a prisoner. It reminded him too much of The Seven Headquarters and his cell. With difficulty, he moved on, "Now I understand his friendship with Chris so much better. I guess they were using each other, in a way. Both had become disillusioned by the prophecy and Krennick. I guess I'll never really understand if Mark felt remorse for Andy's death. Or even Chris. I mean, the man went as far as to alter his DNA so he could _look_ like me! Maybe nothing was too farfetched or outrageous as long as the prophecy was fulfilled."

Next, Harm went on about his missions. First to Germany for the disk. He had to shoot four police officers to escape. Then to Italy for the disk drive to decipher said disk. His encounters with Sydney. His decision to remain a double agent. It all came pouring out. Even his attempted suicide in hopes Krennick would just leave all of his loved ones alone. Mac did a good job of holding back any emotion upon hearing that bit of the story. A quick glance at Clay also told her he was just as surprised at that confession as she was.

When Harm was finished, Weiss shook his hand. He expressed his gratitude (and the country's thanks) and hoped Harm would be able to move on from this. Then Harm was sworn to secrecy. No mention of Rambaldi to anyone besides the ones who already knew. Harm promised that wouldn't be a problem. He wanted to never think of it again.

He exited the interrogation room, greeted with a small hug from Mac and a pat on the shoulder from Victor. Sydney approached holding out her hand to shake goodbye. For some reason, Harm couldn't shake her hand. He remembered their first meeting in Italy. She handed him Mac's ring promising that his loved ones were safe. He remembered how her team risked their lives on the busy streets of Chicago. He recalled their talk about working for someone you hate. She understood like no one else could. He remembered the gala and how they foiled Palmer's attempts to murder Dozier. He appreciated her loyalty seeing how she followed a pseudo-Harm out to Iraq to retrieve the last piece of the puzzle that ultimately led them here. Sydney Bristow had sacrificed a great deal to help him. A handshake just didn't seem adequate.

He surprised her, and the rest of the APO team with a hug of gratitude. "You reached out to me and you didn't even know me. Thank you."

"You're welcome," was all the agent could manage to say. Harm shook hands with Vaughn, Jack and Dixon. He turned to Victor and hugged him as well. Once he got to Clay, however, he wasn't sure what to do. Clay made that decision for him, just merely offering his hand. They both shook tentatively, wondering just where their relationship would go from here.

Arvin Sloane walked up to Harm and smiled, "Commander Rabb. You can go home now."

It seemed like he had waited an eternity to hear those words. Home. He could go home.

**May 14, 2004**

**NCIS Headquarters**

Agent Tony Dinozzo always followed the Rule of Three. Three was always a good number. For instance, if one had to answer a multiple choice question on a test, there were usually five options: 1, 2, 3, 4 or 5. Tony was a man who never tested well due to nerves, brain farts, etc. Anyway, when all else failed, he would circle option 3 because 80 percent of the time that would be the correct answer. He had passed several tests that way.

Anyway, he applied this Rule of Three to almost anything. Like now. It had been more than three days since Chris Locke's murder and he had held off on any teasing until just now. It was in his nature, his blood to tease his partner like this.

"All I'm saying is, you were attracted to him. I know Chris was attracted to you."

"And how would you know this, Tony?" Kate asked pointedly, trying her hardest to concentrate on the files taking up space on her desk and not this driving urge to ram a pencil through his skull.

"Male intuition," Tony replied unwaveringly, that cocky smile emerging ever so slightly across his lips.

"There's no such thing," Kate forced a grin of pure venom in his direction, her body language showing all the tensity flowing through her veins. Tony could tell he was really pushing her buttons. He kinda liked it. Before he could say anything else, he felt a smack across the back of his head. He winced and watched Kate's smile form into a pleased one. She gave a delightful, "Thank you, Gibbs."

"Thank you, Gibbs," Tony repeated in a soft, whiny child-like voice. He rubbed the back of his head in embarrassment at getting smacked. Again. For the fifth time today.

Agent Gibbs sat down at his desk, placing his coffee down and replying, "It seemed like I hadn't hit him in a while. Now I know he deserved it."

"You don't even know what I did?" Tony protested, his face full of disbelief. "You just hit me because of a feeling?"

"Call it male intuition," Gibbs smirked briefly, eliciting a chuckle from Kate. Tony frowned, leaned back in his chair and resumed his work. Gibbs sipped his coffee and asked to no one particular, "Any news on Colonel Mackenzie?"

"She hasn't returned from her 'vacation'," Kate supplied, but her voice gave away her concern. Even she knew the Colonel was taking leisure time to complete an alternate task. She hadn't seen Mac in five days. No phone calls or emails. No one at JAG had heard from her.

"What about Ari?" Gibbs continued on, his tone of voice darker at the mention of the forbidden name.

"Nothing, boss," Tony shrugged, then ribbed in Kate's direction, "He must be on vacation with Colonel Mackenzie."

"Well, if that's the case, Dinozzo. I want the hotel he's staying in, what he ordered for room service that morning and whether or not he plans to take golfing lessons that same afternoon!" Gibbs barked, his eyes intensifying with each word. "I don't want to be updated on nothing. Just _find_ him."

"Yes, boss," Tony said under his breath, quickly fixing his eyes on his desk. For a few long moments, all that could be heard was the clicking of fingers tapping keyboards. Fax machines were printing, phones ringing and the occasional murmuring of co-workers walking past their desks. Absent were the cheeky remarks by Tony or the retorts from Kate. It was moments like these where one had to escape the silence.

-------------------------------------

Kate was taking a well-deserved break outside the headquarters. The demand by Gibbs to find Ari at all costs had made the office incredibly stuffy. This was hard to admit, but with Tony completely subdued, the office was too . . .normal.

She let the breeze ripple her hair and decided to take a little walk. Not too far, but she needed to stretch her legs and get the blood pumping regularly again. She paused at a street corner and looked across the way. It was those eyes. She had her gun on her, but she hesitated in grabbing it. His enigmatic gaze had a hold on her once again. He was sitting in the driver's seat of a worn down blue Chevy just watching her. He rolled the window down and waved at her while flashing a disarming smile. Then he put the car in drive and inched his way up to the curb where she was standing.

She still didn't pull her gun. There was something in his eyes that made her stop.

He parked next to her and smiled, "Hello, Caitlin."

"Ari."

"I've come to right a wrong," he said plainly, opening the door and stepping out. He brushed past her to open the backseat. He reached in and dragged a body out. It was a woman, gagged and bound. Unconscious. A gunshot wound on her arm, it appeared. Kate was slightly confused until he said, "This is Allison Krennick."

Kate looked up, not believing what she just heard. "_This_ is Krennick?"

"Yes," he smiled again, then let his eyes fall on the limp form. "This is the woman responsible for killing Corporal Brain Hanson, Agent Mark Daniels, Agent Chris Locke and abducting Harmon Rabb, Jr.. I guess that helps close a number of case files."

He turned to Kate, who was visibly shocked. He smiled and said rather humbly, "I had to do it. I had a brief lapse of . . .how should I say it? Integrity, perhaps?"

"I find that hard to believe," Kate said, but refused to draw her weapon. Her mind and body were just not clicking right now. They never did around Ari.

"Believe what you want, but be careful what you believe in," Ari warned, as he lowered himself in the driver's seat once more. "I made that mistake once."

"And you think turning her over now will ease your troubled conscious?" Kate asked, fighting to keep from rolling her eyes.

"Something like that," Ari nodded and shut his door. "We were good people once."

Kate had a flashback to her conversation with Chris Locke; a phrase he had repeated several times. They were good people. Once.

She stared at Ari, for a moment, a window to his soul was wide open. His features were etched with remorse. Dubious, she stared longer only to be surprised at truly seeing self-reproach in his expression. In that moment, Kate felt sorry for Ari. Chris _was_ his friend. Now that she had realized this, she folded her arms across her chest and asked in frustration, "If you were such good people, how . . ?"

"How did this happen?" Ari smiled, finishing her question. "Why did Chris have to die?"

He turned the ignition to get the car running again, then put 'er in drive. He leaned against the wheel and shook his head, clearly not sure how to answer. As far as Kate knew, The Seven was just another terrorist cell. Trying to explain their fascination with Rambaldi to her would prove fruitless and a waste of breath. Ari cranked his head around to look at her. His usually smooth demeanor replaced with regret as he sidestepped her questions, "I'm sure we'll meet again, Caitlin. Shalom."

The tires squealed and he was gone. Kate let him drive away without getting the answers she craved. She let him sweet talk his way out of the clutches of NCIS once more. She couldn't really decide yet if she were brave to face Ari alone or just utterly stupid.

A soft moan of pain emitted from the woman laying on the ground reminding Kate who was actually sitting at her feet. She yanked out her cell phone and dialed Gibbs' number. She heard him answer and let out this ridiculous laugh that truly gave away her guilt about letting Ari go once again, "Uh, yeah. You wouldn't believe who I found sitting on our doorstep."

**May 26, 2004**

**JAG Headquarters**

**Falls Church, Virginia**

Admiral AJ Chegwidden was grinning from ear to ear. Both Bud and Harriet were sitting before him, clutching hands and smiling just as wide. For the first time in months, it seemed there was something good to celebrate around the office. It was the gift of life. More and more he was beginning to cherish his own life and it made him extremely happy to hear Harriet finish their announcement by saying, "I'm pregnant. With twins."

"Congratulations, Lieutenant," AJ beamed, standing up from his chair and going around to hug her. It was a sentimental, fatherly hug. A gesture that was rare to see from the tough as nails Admiral. He pulled back, then shook Bud's hand, "Do you ever let her sleep?"

"Apparently not, sir," Bud answered cheekily, still grinning his face off.

AJ continued to smile, even though he had called them in here for another reason. It was just by pure coincidence Harriet was sharing her good news at the same time he wanted to pass on his not-so-good news. He shifted his weight uncomfortably and began, "I appreciate you telling me first and I can't wait to pass this on to the rest of the staff, but I have something just as important to tell you. I guess you could say, I've been reevaluating my life and. . ."

"So it's true?" Bud blurted out accidently, which received a slight smack on the arm from his wife.

AJ didn't falter at Bud's slip up nor did he feel sorry. He had a feeling his team knew what was going through his mind. Hell, it wouldn't be the first time one of them had to talk him out of leaving his post. Mac practically ordered he stay put after that report issued by a disgruntled Ted Lindsey a few years ago. Even still, these were different circumstances now. AJ sighed and finished, "Well, Bud. I just feel it's time I move on. I wanted to ask Harriet to be Madame Vice at my Dining Out."

Harriet clearly appeared to be honored, but before she could answer, Jenn's voice came across loud and clear on the intercom. "Sir, um. There are two officers here who would like to see you now."

AJ, Bud and Harriet were curious at Jenn's upbeat and nervy voice. She hadn't sounded this cheerful in weeks.

"Send them in, Petty Officer."

Her next response was just as chipper, "Yes, sir!"

The office door opened. Harriet and Bud dropped their jaws as their good friend walked through the entryway. Behind him was Mac, the smile on her face couldn't have been any brighter. Harriet could only pause, noticing the differences in Harmon Rabb, Jr. His hair was long and a little wild. He was wearing civvies; loose fitting clothes that appeared to be hand me downs from a Goodwill store. He looked as if he might have aged a few years since the last time she saw him, but that gorgeous smile was still there. That twinkle in his eyes unfailing. Harriet leaped forward and wrapped her arms around his large frame as best she could, "Harm! I mean, sir! We all thought. . .I can't believe it!"

"Whoa!" Harm laughed, underestimating the force Harriet had used to lunge at him. Bud had also approached him, giving him a hearty pat on the back and the most disbelieving face he could muster. Harm replaced the wind that the blond Lieutenant had knocked out of him, then said, "I missed you too, Harriet!"

She immediately blushed and pulled back, still unable to wipe that grin off her face. Bud finally found words and exclaimed, "Sir! You're alive!"

"So it would seem," Harm mildly jested, then turned his focus to the Admiral. "Hello, AJ."

AJ shook his head and asked unbelievably, "Colonel, where did you find him?"

"It's a long story, sir," Mac left it at that, giving a half smile.

Harm moved forward, as Harriet stood next to Mac. The two woman clasped hands out of pure joy and mutual relief at the return of their friend. AJ was still stunned as his former top gun lawyer stood before him. Then Harm came to attention and raised an arm to salute. AJ paused, then did the same. They lowered their arms slowly, a secret language only they could decipher being spoken silently through their gestures and eyes. Unstated apologies and gratitude.

When they had communicated all of those things, AJ then said, "Welcome back, son."

"It's good to be back, sir," Harm replied stoically.

AJ then hugged Harm and muttered, "You bastard. You had me considering retirement."

"Is that so?" Harm finally laughed, accepting the unusual act of affection on his CO's part. Harm pulled away and asked, "Does that mean you're reconsidering?"

AJ took time to read the faces of his officers. First Mac, then Bud and Harriet, then his eyes rested on Harm again. It was obvious what they wanted him to say. So he shrugged, "Maybe I have a few more years left in me, Commander."

"That's great news, sir!" Bud bursted out, his complete glee taking over. Harm was back. AJ was possibly staying on as their CO for a few more years. Harriet was pregnant. Oh right! "Harm. Sir. You missed the announcement, but we thought you would like to know that Harriet is pregnant."

Harm raised an eyebrow, a smirk on his face.

"Twice," Harriet finished.

Both eyebrows shot up his forehead at that as Harm released a short chuckle, "Well, congratulations, Harriet. That's excellent news."

"When's the baby shower?" Mac chimed in, eliciting heartwarming chortles from the group. Harriet seemed extra bubbly about this subject and was leading Mac back out into the bullpen with Bud on their heels. Before Mac could be pulled completely through the door, she caught eyes with Harm. He nodded, indicating they would speak later. She smiled back at him before she disappeared.

Harm turned back to AJ, letting the good cheer and comradery dissipate from the office. He turned around to face his CO with the utmost serious expression. "Are you really going to stay, sir?"

"For at least another year," AJ confirmed with confidence, folding his arms across his chest. He sat on the edge of his desk and gave a sad smile, "A lot has changed around here, since you left."

"Sturgis told me about Tiner. I also noticed Meg is in my old office," Harm shrugged, focusing his eyes anywhere but at his CO. "Is there still a position here for me at JAG, sir?"

"Only if you want it."

"I do."

"Then why are we having this discussion?" AJ asked, letting loose a warm smile before covering it up with a determination to remain assiduous. He watched Harm finally relax, knowing that JAG would always have a place for him. Knowing that whatever emotional rifts had been between the two of them nearly a year ago was in the past. AJ gestured towards an empty chair with his hand, "Please, sit. I want to hear everything."

"Of course, sir," Harm replied, sitting down. He gripped the arms with great tautness and apprehension. He then jokingly said, "I'll try and give you the short version of the story, sir." Then added with a smile, "Without breaking CIA confidence, of course."

AJ just sighed and repeated, "Of course."

Next up, the conclusion to **The Seven**. . .


	33. The Future Belongs To Us

Disclaimer: not mine

**The Seven**

by e-dog

Chapter Thirty Three

"The Future Belongs To Us"

**May 14, 2004**

**Manderlee **

**Webb Family Residence**

Mac had no idea something so beautiful existed in the world of the Webbs.

Their mysterious lives were so chock full of lies, deception, and trickery. It was hard to believe that their lives contained any sense of normalcy at all! Still, maybe it was possible that the only thing left to find would be something magical and lovely. The salty sea air was certainly doing her some good.

Unfortunately, this magical world was just an illusion. There would always be more of the dangerous spy stuff and that unbearable mistrust. There would always be the nature that was Clayton Webb and she simply couldn't deal with that anymore. She couldn't keep pulling him along to satisfy her own loneliness. He had to know that.

Even still, they were here and he was still trying.

Manderlee was just breathtaking. Clay had decided to bring her to this gorgeous estate in a last ditch effort at being romantic. He wanted them to spend a little time there together, alone. Time to sort out their problems and be happy again. The truth was, she wasn't sure they were ever really happy to begin with and she knew he was having a hard time admitting that. He wanted to keep his job and have her at the same time, which was already proven to be damn near impossible.

Especially when one of the parties was really in love with someone else. She always had been.

Mac played nice for as long as she could, then asked politely if Harm could join them as well. After all Harm had been through, he deserved a break too, she reasoned. She suppressed her amusement at Clay's dejected expression, but he reluctantly conceded. What kind of friend would he be if he said no? Even with their strange relationship officially over, Clayton Webb would always be putty in her hands.

Porter Webb had heard her son was bringing friends to their ancient family abode, which just delighted her to no end. It wasn't often Clay let Porter meet the people in his life, but for good reason. From what Mac could get Clay to say about his mother, Porter would rather prefer her son take up a vow of celibacy and strictly adhere to the Religion of the Spooks for the rest of his natural life. Her interest in his friends or significant others was merely a facade to show she could be a good and caring mother.

So the bed sheets that had been protecting the furniture were removed, revealing vibrant colors and elegant style. A teapot was found, whistling a herbal scent throughout the house. The mansion truly was amazing and Porter was being startling civil and warm.

Harm and Clay were being typically macho, exchanging words about the weather or ribbing each other about past missions. For a few brief moments, it was like years past when Clayton Webb was somewhat tolerable and Harmon Rabb, Jr. wasn't afraid of anything. Then the wind rustled the wind chimes outside, shocking them back into reality. It was indeed the year 2004, not 1995. Nine years had gone by and so much had changed. Clayton Webb had a broken heart and a cold future to look forward to. Harmon Rabb, Jr. had discovered he truly was vulnerable; that his future was clearly uncertain.

Eventually, the two men parted ways. Clay retreated to a study.

Harm walked out to the beach.

Mac didn't need to think twice about which man needed her more.

------------------------

She found him there, his hands jammed into his pockets. His toes dug deeply into the sand; his sandals tossed haphazardly in front of him. His long locks whipped in the wind. His intense eyes finding something interesting on the horizon. The sun was setting on a pleasant day and he looked absolutely content. He had been home for two days, officially. Even though she could see he was happy to be home, something else was ailing him deep within his soul.

She wasn't really sure how long she stood next to him, trying to find whatever he was searching for out there on the horizon. She couldn't really remember when his hand enveloped hers, but suddenly she could feel the pressure of his fingers intertwined with her own. This tranquility was heavenly, but she could tell something was on his mind. Unfortunately, she had to break the silence.

"Harm?"

He looked at her with saddened eyes, but with a bright grin. "I was just thinking about Mattie. My apartment. Jenn. Tiner. Everything."

His smile, for once, was too blinding; too fake. He was putting on a brave face. Mac let her expression fall slightly as she coaxed, "It's okay to cry, Harm. You've been through a lot."

Once he had permission to do so, he let it out. With difficulty. He was trying desperately to keep it together in front of her. A tear or two trickled down his cheek, but he wiped those away quickly. She imagined the dam holding his sorrow back was ready to burst, but he was doing a hell of a job of staying placid. Maybe he would let it all out later, in private. That was his way.

He shrugged hoping to show indifference, but he tightened his hold on her hand like his life depended on her.

He mumbled, "I lost Mattie. I don't think I can get her back."

Mac reminded him, "Didn't she call? Doesn't she want to see you?"

"I don't want to _see_ her, Mac. I want her back in my life," Harm emphasized, then shook his head as if feeling guilty. "I sound so selfish. I'm not her real father."

"Harm. . ."

"And Tiner. God, that poor boy," Harm said, lips quivering. "He was forced to stalk you. Ordered to - - "

"Let's not revisit that, please," Mac joked lightly.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

Harm never let go of her hand. It wasn't like she wanted him to, but she was beginning to wonder if he would ever be able to support himself. Would he always need her as a crutch? What if she couldn't fulfill that need? What if she couldn't hold him up? She could admit that her strengths lied within her military capabilities, not her emotional ones. It was obvious he would need something she couldn't give him and that was sound judgement and professional advice. She suggested with mild jest, "Well, I know this doctor. . ."

His objection was immediate, "I don't need a shrink, Mac."

"Well, I didn't think so either, but we all know how well that turned out," Mac smiled sadly. She tugged on his arm and he looked at her. "I want to help you, you know I do. I just can't help you with everything. I wish I could, but I can't."

"I don't need a shrink, Mac. I don't need help," he protested sternly. "I just need you."

As sweet as his omission was, she was steadfast in her claim, "Harm, you have me, but I'm not enough and you know it."

Harm finally conceded, then shrugged again, "Maybe you can give me the number."

"I will give you the number."

His gaze returned to the horizon and her curiosity got the best of her. "Harm, what are you looking for?"

"A sign. Something to say that what happened was for a good reason," Harm sighed. "I don't see one."

"What about your father?" she inquired thoughtfully.

"Andy died. Chris Locke died. Too many people were killed," Harm shook his head. "No, I wouldn't have risked all those lives just to find out one more thing about him. Not a chance."

"Maybe there isn't a good reason, then," Mac said, knowing her reasoning wouldn't make him feel better. She let the wind blow hair from her face, trying to find the right words. "Fate has a strange way of telling us things. Letting us know what's important. How to reach certain goals, even if that means risking something as precious as our own lives. "

"Fate always brings us together," he added softly, searching for and finding her thoughtful gaze. "No matter what happens, we're always standing side by side in the end."

Mac chuckled lightly and nodded in agreement, "Yeah, we are."

"So, what are we going to do about it this time?" Harm asked solemnly. He continued to give her an acute stare that spoke volumes of his sincerity. She didn't know how to answer. He turned to fully face her, taking both of her hands in his. He spoke softly, but strongly, "I know you and Clay are, well. . .I just want you to know that I'm here. I always have been. If you want to start a family, I'm ready. If you just want to remain the closest of friends, then I can live with that too, but. . .I can't bear the thought of not having you in my life, Mac. You need to know that. So don't tell me never because I won't accept that. Not this time."

Mac took time to let each word sink in, then firmly grasped his hands as well and chuckled, "You know, sometimes you scare me."

"Excuse me?"

"I'm not trying to joke," Mac smiled apologetically, reverting her gaze to the sandy surface at her feet. "The compliments. The sincere gestures. All through the years I passed them off as pure Harmon Rabb, Jr. charm. The stuff you said to all the women in your life. I kept wondering why someone like you would want a stubborn Jarhead like me."

Harm lifted her face by her chin and said, "Because I love this stubborn Jarhead and like an idiot, I didn't tell her until I thought I would never see her again." He paused then requested, "Now I need to know if you meant it too."

Mac couldn't believe they were actually having this conversation, but did she just expect it to wither away and die? Well, yes. Usually, they did just that. No matter what confessions of love slipped from their mouths, they just let it alone and moved on. Harm wasn't doing that this time. Maybe she shouldn't either.

"Harm, I do love you. . ."

"I feel a 'but' coming," he almost groaned, but managed to plaster an amused grin on his face.

"But we still work together. . .at JAG," she pointed out, keeping a small smile on her face as well. "I just don't think . . ."

"Don't think. What do you want?" Harm asked. "Because I'm technically not back yet. I don't have to go back."

"Harm, don't say that. The Navy is your life," Mac said, clearly befuddled.

"Not anymore. My father apparently got wrapped up in some prophecy. Maybe he forgot about the important things in life because of it," Harm reasoned. "In the past year, after being around Mattie, after what you went through with Sadik. All I want is to do is protect the people I care most for. I want that family. I want that responsibility."

Mac's smile grew broader with each word. Yes, this was possibly even better than she had imagined. A simple mention of his love again probably would've been enough, but this verbalization of his feelings was much more than she had hoped for. She inched closer to him and said jokingly, "You're sure? You won't have some urge to fly an F-16 in the near future?"

"An F-16? What's that?" he asked dumbly, that infamous smile back in place and very genuine. He leaned down and captured her laughter in a kiss.

In that moment, they both realized the huge step they were taking. One kiss wouldn't solve all their personal problems, but a moment later, they didn't care. Sure, it took them nine years to get to this point, but boy, was it worth it.

Mac pulled back, he rested his forehead against hers. Then, just for added confirmation, she asked, "It's over?"

"Yeah, it's over," he replied confidently. "We won't have to worry about Rambaldi ever again. It's just you and me."

Yes, at that moment, they believed the future belonged to them.

**May 14, 2004**

**Somewhere in the hills of Russia**

They had all failed him.

Sadik.

Clark.

Chris.

Falcon.

Ari.

Allison.

They were either too dubious, or too zealous or too. . .stupid. They had all failed the original belief system that they had established all those years ago. He stared out at the vast sky and asked towards the heavens, _Oh Rambaldi, how could they have been so brainless? After knowing the wisdom that you brought to us, how could they screw up so badly? _

Somewhere in these ruins would be the body of a man who looked exactly like Harmon Rabb, Jr.. Somewhere in these ruins would be the pieces to the mold that would give the greatest vision known to man.

It would take _years_ to reconstruct it, if reconstructing it would even be possible at all. In reality, they would have to find all the pieces and fit them back together exactly. Not one speck of dust could be left out of place. On top of that, even if they could get it back together, so much time would've passed that one of Harmon Rabb, Jr's descendants would be required to ever try and achieve the ultimate goal ever again. If they had to use the child of Sergei Shukov, then so be it. Somehow this was going to work again.

Mark Daniels had been so close. Now he was dead.

He adjusted his aviator sunglasses and scowled. If only _he_ could've been overseeing this. If only _he_ hadn't had to keep watching from a distance so his cover wouldn't be blown.

He had lost everything, thanks to Harmon Rabb, Jr.. His job. His wife. His credibility. He wanted nothing more than to ruin that man's entire lifetime, but something always tugged at his brain. The prophecy. It was clearly Harm's father they were addressing. It just seemed so obvious that Harm's DNA would help trigger the vision. What went wrong?

Former Commander Ted Lindsey leaned on a tree as he watched the bulldozer barge into the tough rock surface. It had been nearly a year since he lost his job. He had to go into hiding after trying to contact his former friends through unfriendly channels. Not wanting to arouse more suspicion, he just disappeared. Krennick did all the leg work for him. She had been brilliant, just lost her head in the end. Her unrequited love for Harm an issue he didn't contend with like he should have. Just like he never contended with his utter hatred for Harm.

Back then, when he still had some influence, Lindsey had hoped his damning report on the JAG staff would knock Harm off his high horse. Then, when Harm least expected it, they would grab him and tell him the truth about the prophecy. Unfortunately, Lindsey overdid it. He was fired for his lack of patience.

"Well, not this time," Lindsey muttered aloud.

"We found something!" Came a shout within the cave. Lindsey smiled and made his way over to the mess, using a flashlight to illuminate the dark caverns. He reached the spot and saw the remains of some human flesh and a severed limb. He wrinkled his nose slightly at the odor, then nodded. That had to be Mark Daniels. They were getting close.

He stood back to watch his men work. Well, they weren't his men, per say. When he had heard Allison had failed, he could only turn to one man for help. These men worked for _that_ man now.

"How's it coming along, Mr. Lindsey?"

Lindsey smiled and turned to meet his new boss, "Well. I think we'll be finding most of the pieces before dark, Mr. Gareth."

Yes, Gareth was now in charge of the The Seven. It only seemed fitting, seeing how Allison was once his sweetheart. He played the part of jealous boyfriend for years, using his closeness with her to learn every detail about Rambaldi. Allison kept him along for pity, not knowing his true intentions or aspirations.

Gareth had originally planned on overthrowing her himself, but thanks to Ari and his "good heart", his former girl was stuck with NCIS and her multiple terrorism charges. She would no longer be a problem that The Seven had to deal with.

Gareth smiled, watching the men dig with great trepidation. He could already sense the power they could potentially unlock.

Lindsey also grinned, "I'm confident we can put it back together, Mr. Gareth."

Gareth nodded and patted Lindsey on the back, "Good. Rambaldi's vision is not dead. Not yet. I do believe with the utmost confidence, Mr. Lindsey, that the future belongs to us."

**The End**

Author's Note: A huge thank you to the readers! Your encouragement and kind words kept this story alive! This is by far the longest saga I've ever written and I hope you enjoyed every bit! (It also took the longest to write and I couldn't apologize enough for the delay, but I hope it was worth it!)

A special thank you to Katie, who beta'd most of this and gave me pointers. You rock!

Until next time, be safe and have fun.

Much love,

e-dog


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